Fait Accompli
by All-knowing Alien
Summary: Fait Accompli means something that has been done and cannot be changed. Seemed fitting for this fic. A HPDM tale. Currently writing new chapters. Updates will be slow in the coming.
1. 00 The Classroom of Erised

Fait Accompli

Prologue – The Classroom of Erised

Harry sat in the middle of the floor in the deserted classroom he had so frequently visited in his first year, back when it held the Mirror of Erised. The stone floor was extremely cold, and his uniform (he had shed his robes earlier) were not particularly heat retaining. But he somehow could not feel the chill.

He sighed. First it was his parents. Now Sirius. The only person he could've turned to, the closest thing he had to a father… was gone. Who was Voldemort going to kill next? Hermione? Ron? Remus? Dumbledore? How many more loved ones was he going to lose?

Hot tears stung his eyes, but he brushed them away impatiently. What would the Wizarding World say, seeing their precious Boy-Who-Lived, fighting tears?

The door creaked open. Without turning, he knew who it was. He stood, and someone nuzzled the back of his neck. He pulled away and turned to face the smirking blonde.

"What's the matter Potter?" Grey eyes shielded by a fringe of hair.

"What's the matter? Nothing's the matter. Just that my Godfather is dead," Harry replied in a kind of strangled voice. "Nothing's the matter."

A finger rested on Harry's cheek, then traced the outline of his jaw. Harry didn't know why, but he shivered, and a tingle of electricity ran down his spine as said finger mapped out his lips. When the kiss started, he ended it quickly and looked away.

"What's the matter Harry?" drawled Draco Malfoy. "No mood tonight, hmm?"

"No mood- My Godfather's dead!"

"So I heard." He placed his hand delicately on Harry's chest, his fingers splayed out elegantly over Harry's heart. "All the more reason for me to be here, _for you._"

Harry didn't move. "All the more reason for you to take advantage of me!"

Raised eyebrows on Malfoy's part. "Take advantage of you? I would never dream of it." He walked around Harry, hand never leaving Harry's shirt, leaving trails of fire on the Gryffindor's skin through the material.

"This isn't a game."

"Game?" Malfoy snorted. "You dishonour me, Potter. I come here with all the goodness of my heart and am rebuffed." He snatched his hand away, and made to leave.

Harry sighed, a slight pain in his chest at the words. He grabbed Malfoy's hand in his own. Malfoy turned, looked at their intertwined hands, and then looked at Harry.

"Draco…"

"Don't 'Draco…' me Potter."

Harry sighed again and took hold of Malfoy's other hand. The black in the Slytherin's grey eyes had softened, even if the expression in his face had not. Harry surprised himself more than Draco when he leaned forward and kissed him.

The Slytherin, for one, did not object, although it was he who usually made the first move. Or _any_ move, for that matter. But this change was…nice. Exciting, in a way. But he had come here for a reason. He pulled away gently, maybe too gently to be associated with a _Malfoy_, and led 'Potter' to a desk.

"Tell me about him."

OoOoOoOoOo

I do not own Harry Potter and Co.


	2. 01 Breath of Life

Fait Accompli

Chapter 1 – Breath of life

"Harry! Are you alright?"

A hand entered his field of vision, blocking the extremely interesting view of bacon and eggs, and effectively snapping him out of his reverie. He looked up and met the brown eyes of a very concerned Hermione. Ron was sniggering slightly in his seat beside her at the clueless look on Harry's face.

"Yeah. Sure. Fine."

"Well, you don't look it," responded Hermione tartly, unsatisfied with his monosyllabic answers.

"Yeah, mate. You have bags under your eyes the size of Trelawney's specs, and you didn't go to bed last night. Or, at least when I was awake," Ron chipped in, growing serious. "You weren't in the Common Room either; Hermione was up until one-thirty doing that Transfiguration essay that's due next month." Hermione pursed her lips at this.

"I…I fancied a walk. Time to think."

Ron didn't look too convinced but shrugged and returned to buttering his toast. Hermione, however, ignored her own breakfast and leaned across the table towards Harry, careful not to get any syrup on her robes, or knock over her goblet.

"Harry, do you want to talk about Snuffles dy- Snuffles?" she asked in a low voice, full of worry. Ron didn't look up from his breakfast, but Harry knew he was listening; his butter knife wasn't moving.

He chose his words carefully. "Thanks." Pasted a fake smile on his face. "Both of you. But Snuffles…he _was_ what I was thinking about yesterday, sure. That's why I didn't go to bed until…late. And no, I don't want to talk about it. His death-" Harry took a breath, and continued "-Sirius' death can't be changed. All I can do is accept it and move on. I'm pretty sure he'd want me to."

Hermione nodded and placed a hand on his, squeezing his fingers gently in a comforting gesture. Harry noticed a ring, but did not comment. "But ­_if_ you want to talk…"

"I will." And for a moment Harry's smile became a genuine one.

As they turned to their own breakfasts and thoughts, Harry lapsed back into his own world, hands directing his fork and knife automatically, chewing, eating, his brain working furiously. What he told the both of them wasn't exactly a lie. But that didn't make it true either.

He _had_ gone to the classroom to think about Sirius. Then Draco Malfoy had come. Harry grimaced. Whether Draco had intended to or not, Harry had succumbed to him. But it seemed that – for once – the Slytherin had meant what he said. He had sat up with Harry, talked to him, caressed him, soothed him. Harry was surprised he hadn't fallen asleep then and there in Malfoy's arms.

The magical bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. The hall was filled with rustlings, grumbling and scrapings of chairs as students got up to go to their respective classes. Of course there were the few late stragglers, who were given glares by the remaining teachers at the Head Table.

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and followed Ron, Hermione and everyone else out of the Great Hall. Thoughts of a certain Slytherin were forgotten for a moment, as he wondered whether Professor Flitwick would make true his threat of a surprise test (one only Hermione would enjoy.)

He didn't notice the grey eyes trained on him.

OoOoOoOoOo

Sinking into a hot bath filled with scented bubbles after a long, tedious day of magicking (if there was such a word)…that was _the life_. And being alone, that was just an added bonus.

Of course, at midnight, there would hardly be anyone there.

Draco Malfoy leaned his head against the lip of the bath, letting the water do its own 'magic'. That was one of the perks of being a prefect. Access to the Prefect's bathroom. Now, if he could only formulate a dastardly plan to remove that hideous picture of the mermaid on the wall…

He was dreaming, he knew. Why else would he be at the beach? Not like he lived near one, anyway. Potter was there too, looking stupid in an inflatable float thing. Whatever those Muggle children used. Well, he didn't _really_ look stupid. Silly. In a way.

And a merperson. He couldn't tell what gender it was from this distance. But it's characteristically grey skin, yellow eyes and green mane of hair made it the total opposite of the mermaid hanging on the wall of the bath. Briefly Draco remembered that the chief difference between saltwater and freshwater merpeople was that the ocean-dwelling creatures had pearlescent scales, and made pearls their favourite decorative item, instead of rocks.

This left his mind as the sun, instead of setting, exploded into millions of fragments, and as light faded, they formed the stars. Draco did not find this odd, though a nagging thought ate at the corner of his mind. The sun always did this. That's why there were stars at night. Right?

But, now, it was night, and all was different. The merperson looked more sinister, evil. And so it was, and right in front of his eyes he watched as it caught hold of Potter and started dragging him underwater. Draco ran, his movements slow, almost too slow. He grabbed at Harry's robe (weren't they on the beach?), heaved at the handful of material. But at a shriek from the merperson, more of its kind emerged from the sea and started pulling at Harry too. The now damp cloth slipped from Malfoy's grip.

He grabbed again, now his fingers closing only on seawater. Furious, he pulled the hair of a merman and kicked it in the leg, or tail, whatever. And it laughed, laughed in its screechy way and wrapped clammy, powerful fingers around his fragile throat. Squeezed.

Choking, Draco tried to stay calm. It was only a dream. Just a nightmare, totally normal. He would wake up soon, and laugh it off in the morning. Harry would be there to tease him about how he would have to avoid the Lake like crazy.

So why was the air leaving him, his vision blurring? He panicked.

Drawing out his wand, the merperson loosened its grip, eyes widening in fear. That fear was what he needed.

"Expelliarmus!" The disarming spell, at that range was enough to ensure that the merperson would be snoozing on the sea bed for a long time. Malfoy took a few ragged breaths. While being strangled by the merperson, the rest had already dragged Harry further out to sea, intent on drowning him. Having trouble doing precisely that because of the float.

But sharp fingers and teeth had no problem puncturing it.

"No!" Too late, the Potter child was nowhere to be seen above water.

Without thinking, and pausing only to draw breath, he plunged underwater himself. He saw them, only a few meters in front, and steadily increasing the distance between them with every beat of their graceful and powerful tails.

He had to admit, he wasn't an athlete. Especially when it came to swimming; as his father said, what was the point of learning such a Muggle way of doing things when one could Apparate, Floo or fly by broomstick? It was very un-Malfoy-like, getting wet. But now he was propelling himself forward, fast. A life in danger did that to a person.

But after a few minutes (or was it hours?), he knew it was useless. The merpeople were obviously more superior in strength and speed in the water. Plus they didn't have fragile lungs, they had gills. He needed to breathe. Air.

Though his heart broke doing it, he abandoned the chase. Started upward, but not before giving one final glance at the eerily green face of Harry. He knew it was useless to pursue the chase further. But, then, why did he feel so wretched?

The surface was still a long way away. He knew that much, for he could see no light in the murky water. He was aware that his limbs were getting tired, his strokes weaker, progress slower. Water somehow managed to seep through his mouth. His lungs were beginning to contract, to wring out remaining traces of oxygen. There was pressure in his chest. His body was numb with cold.

He couldn't. He felt his eyes glazing. He felt himself drowning. He _was_ drowning, head spinning, all the air left in him escaping in streams of bubbles. There weren't very many.

Would you cry bubbles underwater?

He gave one more thrust upwards, to the surface, to breath, to life. It was useless, and slowly he sank. Draco didn't bother caring anymore, and he let his eyes slide closed, and his mouth was open, and he let the water rush into his lungs. There was no strength in him to choke. He thought about his life. About his parents. About Potter. Closed his eyes…

And breathed in air?

He was out of the sea. No, not the sea, the bath, the Prefect's bath. He gulped in the air in deep, sweet draughts, much like a man who had been stuck in a desert for weeks who had finally found an oasis.

And Harry Potter was there. An angel. An angel in pyjamas and sopping wet, but an angel nonetheless.

"What the hell were you doing? You almost drowned!" The same could be said for Harry, whose glasses were dripping, while his black hair stuck to the sides of his face, slicked with wetness. He smelt faintly of soap.

Draco couldn't answer. He wasn't over the shock. Wordlessly, he flung his arms around Harry's neck. The Gryffindor hugged him back, tucking Draco's head under his chin. They held on to each other for awhile, both panting, unsure whether to speak or not. Harry was the first to break the silence.

"You know, it's lucky that you asked me to come here and meet you. If not…" His voice trailed of as he shuddered. "Now can you tell me what happened?"

"Dreaming. Nightmare. Drowning," was all he could manage. He couldn't tell Harry the real story. His worries were his own.

"Well, you're safe now, at any rate. You should get back to bed. Though we'd probably have to get you dressed first."

Draco realized that he was wearing nothing. He felt rather cold and vulnerable, and was thankful that Harry wasn't gawping. He quietly accepted the towel that was handed over to him. "You'd better get some dry clothes on too, before you and your stupid hero complex catch a cold," he said to Harry, who was quietly shivering.

"I'm fine. The Invisibility Cloak is actually quite warm." He reached out for it, a smile on his face at Draco's comment, and for his wand, which lay nearby.

The door opened.

OoOoOoOoOo

I do not own Harry Potter and Co.

06.05.07 Edited prologue and chapters 1, 2 & 3.


	3. 02 Pull Up a Chair?

Fait Accompli

Chapter 2 – Pull Up a Chair

Harry managed to get the cloak around himself just in time, seemingly disappearing into thin air, as two people entered the room. And just _who_ were these two people?

"Weasel, Mudblood. Can't you give a person some privacy?" Malfoy's period of weakness seemed to have been replaced by his usual disdainfulness. He seemed to be most arrogant, even though he only had a towel around his waist.

Ron scowled at Malfoy. "What are _you_ doing here at this time of night Malfoy? Just got back from a Junior Death Eater meeting?"

Harry stared at his two best friends. Why were they here? He sent a prayer of thanks, not for the first time, to Dumbledore for handing him his father's Invisibility Cloak.

Draco laughed without mirth. "Even a first year would know that, Weasley. Isn't Granger supposed to be the smartest in our year?" he drawled, flicking his dripping hair out of his maliciously glittering eyes.

"Smarter than _you,_ Malfoy."

"I have just finished taking a bath. That's what a person does when one has enough money to pay for water to clean oneself." The Slytherin sneered. "What other reason would there be for my appearance?" His eyes widened and gleamed malevolently as a new thought came to mind. "And what are _you two_ doing here? I thought the girls had their own bathroom?" He raised a sculpted eyebrow. "Besides, wouldn't the Gryffindor baths be better? But, oh wait; you'd both be making too much noise wouldn't you?"

Hermione had to grab the back of Ron's robes to prevent him from launching himself at the smirking Slytherin. "Shove off, Malfoy," she said scathingly.

Harry almost helped her hold Ron back, but stopped himself in the nick of time. The both of them would be highly interested to know why he was in the prefect's bathroom, sopping wet, with a naked Draco and a full bath in close proximity.

Draco smirked once more and scooped up his clothes from a bench elegantly. He walked to the door, and turned once more to the now pink Hermione. Ron was more red in the face. "I hope you two have a great time together." He opened the door, gave a glance to Harry as a signal and laughed.

"Let go of me, Hermione! I'll rip him- I swear, I'll _kill_ him!"

Harry hurried out of the door before Malfoy, careful not to bump into his fellow Gryffindors. Draco closed the door behind him curtly, drowning out Ron's threats, a slight smile of satisfaction on his face.

"That was a close shave."

Harry pulled the cloak of his face a little, so he resembled a disembodied head, albeit a head bobbing along beside Draco. "Yeah…why d'you reckon they were in there anyway?"

Draco (who had Summoned his bathrobe and just donned it) cast a withering look at Harry, as if he thought Harry was trying to be funny. However, he realised the Gryffindor was being serious and exclaimed, "Do you honestly _not_ know? Merlin, they're you're best friends, haven't they told you?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked, though he dreaded the answer.

"They're sleeping with each other, Potter. Stop being so naïve. Haven't they been acting odd lately?"

"Come to think of it…" Harry could see now; it had been blindingly obvious. All those times; Ron had been going to the library more and more often of late (Now he knew, it wasn't for studying) and how Ron and Hermione always got to breakfast before him, sitting beside each other, despite Ron's tendency to wake up late and Hermione's pre-breakfast library sessions. How could he have missed all that?

Draco saw the look on Harry's face and smiled wryly.

"How could they…? I'm their best friend…how could…" he faltered indignantly.

"Harry." Malfoy's voice was quiet. "Did you tell them about _us_?"

Harry looked embarrassed. "No…I…I'm sorry, Draco."

Draco brought Harry's face closer to his own and whispered, "Don't be. We're a special case, yeah? Go and confront them tomorrow. Then tell me what happens. I daresay I need a laugh." He grinned wickedly.

Harry laughed. "Goodnight, Draco," he said, as they had reached the Slytherin common room. He turned to leave, adjusting the Invisibility Cloak properly, and noticing with a grimace he was trailing drops of water.

"What, no good-night kiss for me?" came the indignant voice behind him.

It became more than a simple 'kiss', but Harry returned to his Common Room half an hour later, a goofy smile on his lips.

Harry woke up the next morning to find that Ron wasn't there. Again. He frowned. And here he had thought Ron would still be snoring, seeing as he returned to his bed as late as he did. There was no way the redhead could function properly with only three or four hours of sleep, like Hermione or Harry could.

Then again, Ron slept through History and Divination anyway…

After pulling on his robes, Harry descended the stairs to the almost empty Common room, and spotted Hermione and Ron by the fire, talking in low voices. The rest of their fellow housemates were either at breakfast, or just milling around. It was, after all, a Saturday.

They still had not noticed him. He walked up to them, yesterday's scenes playing in his mind. "Good morning guys! What're you two discussing?" he asked brightly.

"Uh…" Hermione looked somewhat surprised. "Nothing, nothing…"

"Where were you last night, mate?" Ron asked, trying to change the subject in the awkward silence that followed.

"Oh, I fancied a walk. More importantly, where were the both of you? I woke up when you came in late last night Ron. Of course, I'm assuming you were both doing something together. That Charms project, maybe?"

Ron and Hermione averted their eyes, not offering a shred of defence on their part. Guiltiness was etched all over their faces. Harry sighed. He might as well just get straight to the point.

"You're seeing each other, aren't you?" The suddenness of the question startled the both of them; Ron actually jumped. They exchanged glances and looked at Harry again. They shared a nervous laugh.

"Pardon me?"

"Harry, mate, what made you think _that_?"

"Look, don't hide it, okay? I'm not that stupid, and I don't want to be lied to anymore. I have been lied to for my entire life, and now you two, my friends, my _best bloody friends_; don't even have the decency to admit that you're seeing each other!" Harry was only just aware that he was standing up and shouting at the pair of them.

"Harry… we…we were _going _to tell you-"

"Yeah, right. When?" Their silence was all he needed. "Did you think I was going to be jealous, feel like I'm the third wheel or something? Well, cheers for making me feel worse. You two make me sick." He turned on his heel and strode out of the Common room, leaving a stunned Ron and Hermione behind.

OoOoOoOoOo

"Hey Harry."

Harry looked up briefly and turned back to his books. He did not want to be disturbed by anyone, _especially_ Ginny Weasley. Ever since she and Dean Thomas had come to the decision to break up – and here this meant a screaming match out by the Lake that could be heard from the dungeons, according to Draco – she had again become interested in Harry, a prospect he did NOT find appealing. At all.

He was at the library, trying to finish a Potions essay he had put off all week. Now Miss Irritating had come. He'd be lucky if he could write a word. Snape would dance with glee at the prospect of docking points from his least favourite student.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Concern was imprinted all over her face, doing a bad job of masking the hurt at being brushed off.

"Nothing's wrong. My two best friends are a bunch of liars, that's all. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my essay," Harry said shortly, hoping that his rudeness would put Ginny off.

It didn't.

"Oh, that's _horrible_," she gasped, getting up and moving to the seat next to him. "Ronald can be such an _idiot_ sometimes…much like my other brothers. I understand how you feel," she said, leaning closer. Harry could've counted her freckles from that distance. If he had _wanted_ to, that is.

"Am I interrupting something?" a cool voice asked, breaking the 'special' moment. Harry and Ginny looked up, the former of the two smiling gratefully at the voice. The Gryffindor Chaser didn't notice.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Don't you have your dungeons to skulk in, First Years to bully, that sort of thing?" scowled Ginny. "Besides, shouldn't you be with your girlfriend, Parkinson?"

"I would like to talk to Potter. _Alone_." Draco's eyes glittered dangerously, and he had adopted the patented Malfoy no-nonsense tone of voice.

Ginny, however, did not move, which was probably a grave error on her part. "No. You'll probably curse him or something. If you want to say something, you can say it in front of me."

Draco smirked, trying to imagine what the Weasel-girl would do if he said he wanted to shag Harry senseless. He opened his mouth to do so, but Harry, sensing danger, decided to intervene. He sighed in irritation. "Ginny, just bug off, alright?" She looked scandalized. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco smirk. "I can handle this by myself. I'm not some brainless git you, your brother and his girlfriend think I am."

"I…" Rendered speechless, Ginny ran out of the library, face in her hands. How embarrassing! And in front of Draco Malfoy, spawn of evil no less! How could he do this to her? It was all Ron's fault. Maybe she would yell at him for a while. Yes, that would make her feel better…

"Pull up a chair."

Draco chose one opposite Harry. They were, after all, in public. "You look like you're a hundred years old…" he remarked, the gentleness of his tone belying the fact he was scowling. Of course, that was all for show.

Harry sighed. "I confronted the both of them…and I yelled at them for lying to me." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I…I was too hypocritical…I mean, here I am, carrying on a secret relationship, with a Slytherin no less."

The blond looked at his unhappy boyfriend sadly. "No. They _should_ have told you. They are your best friends, and it wasn't exactly unclear that they were attracted to each other since Fourth Year. Why are you making excuses for them?"

Harry was silent for a few moments, fiddling with his quill absentmindedly. When he spoke, he spoke with a quiet determination, his green eyes resolute behind their glasses.

"Draco, I don't want us to be a secret anymore."

The abruptness of that simple statement threw Draco. "W-what?" To think, _Draco Malfoy_, king of eloquence, shocked speechless at ten simple words. Can you hear the fanfare signalling the end of the world?

"I don't want us to be doing this in secret anymore. Since we got together at the Yule Ball, all we've ever done was in the shadows. I want us to be able to walk in the hallway hand in hand. I want us to be able to sit together without being regarded with suspicion. I want to able to glare at all those girls who flirt with you, and feel justified when I hex them later on…" His clear green eyes gazed mercilessly into Draco's gray ones.

Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from the innocence radiating from the other boy. He sighed. "It would be…difficult, Harry. Are you sure you want it this way? The Dark Lord does have followers within these walls. Not to mention the spectacular reaction of your dear friends. I can't see you just walking up to them, 'Hey guys, guess what; I'm dating Draco Malfoy!'"

Harry shrugged and pointed at someone behind Draco. "Too late now."

Draco turned and saw both Hermione and Ron staring open mouthed at the both of them. His already pale skin turned ashen. Maybe it would have been a good idea to put up a Silencing Charm earlier, or at least move to a more secluded location.

Harry, however, smiled at the both of them. "Pull up a chair?"

OoOoOoOoOo

I do not own Harry Potter and Co.

I apologise for the slight Ginny bashing. I do sometimes enjoy her character (i.e. when she's not Harry's girlfriend, XD) and she will be placed in better light as I go on. I hope.

06.05.07 Edited prologue and chapters 1, 2 & 3.

Additional note:

I think the movie's Voldemort in a suit is sexy. Sue me. X3


	4. 03 Holy Mother of Merlin's B

Fait Accompli

Chapter 3 – "Holy Mother of Merlin's B –"

In the Department of Mysteries of the Ministry of Magic, there was a lot of damage to be seen to. Really, they needed better security in the place. Not only had a bunch of Hogwarts students entered and wrecked the area, but Death Eaters and You-Know-Who himself had proceeded to take part in a battle!

The destruction was horrendous. Bad enough countless Prophecy Spheres had been destroyed, and those were irreplaceable. Some fool had destroyed the sterile medium of the Time Jar, causing it to work irregularly. The hummingbird was currently trying to be an egg, a hatchling and a full-grown bird all at the same time.

And what of the specially pickled brain of Grindelwald? _That_ alone took up over a decade of research, and a huge chunk of their budget.

The only room left untouched was the Room with the Veil. Well, untouched would be inaccurate, because there were spell backlashes everywhere. But the archway itself was unscathed. The only change was that there was an addition to the whispers from the other side; laughter often followed by a soft screaming.

Now the Unspeakables were forced to counteract these effects. No problem, seeing they had designed (or at least studied) the items beforehand. But the quandary was that they could not use magic. Although their job revolved around research and experiments, they did _not_ want to risk finding out what magic would do to the already damaged – and therefore fragile – goods.

The screams from the Veil came to an abrupt halt. This did not worry anyone; it was quite a common occurrence. The thump of feet meeting stone, however –

"What was that?" an Unspeakable asked, his head whipping up in alarm; he was still very jumpy around sudden sounds. He had been the designated watchman just hours after the break-in at the Ministry. He still shuddered to think what could have happened, had he decided to report for duty earlier than planned for some extra research.

The Unspeakable helping him looked at him funnily. "What was what?" she asked, and her voice was laced with disbelief and a tinge of ennui. Obviously, this had not been the first time their work had been interrupted by phantom sounds.

"Didn't you hear? Footsteps!"

"There's no one else except us, silly, you're probably imagining things…" the woman said.

"I am NOT losing my mind, woman," he retorted. "Maybe-"

CRASH!

Now both of them turned, clutching at each other. Scoring top NEWTs and swearing a Wizard's Oath to become an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries was starting to look like a _very_ bad career move. They slowly inched forward, towards the noise. They didn't have to walk very far.

There lay the remains of a – thankfully unused – glass jar, albeit a jar that would have been able to house a small child. Shards of glass fanned out from the feet of a sheepish looking man. He ran a hand through his cropped black hair, his blue-gray eyes filled with embarrassment. But it was somehow unmistakable who it was. So unmistakable, the female Unspeakable folded, and fell silently to the floor in a dead faint.

The still upright Unspeakable gaped at the man. "S-s-s-Sirius Black!" he stuttered, pointing his forefinger dramatically. He was supposing that Black had been sent back from the dead to kill him, Hodgkin Prewett, seeing as he had already escaped death only a few weeks ago.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, who were you expecting? Voldemort? Or maybe even Merlin himself?"

"I must be dreaming…it's all a dream…Oh, Holy Mother of Merlin's B -" He too joined his colleague on the floor.

Sirius Black sighed yet again. He had to get out of the Ministry. It was odd that there were no Death Eaters or Hogwarts students here, but he'd find out about that later. For all he knew, he could still be hunted by the Wizarding World. All he wanted to do now was to see Harry, see his godson… only then would he demand answers.

Concentrating, Sirius Apparated to the Shrieking Shack. Thank Merlin the idiots at the Ministry had not put up anti-Apparition wards. A bittersweet smile played about his lips as he remembered his last visit to Remus' old refuge during full moons. He still regretted letting Pettigrew live.

Transforming into the great black dog that was his Animagus form, Sirius bounded through the low passageway and pressed the knot on the wood, arresting the Whomping Willow's movements. Then he took off pell-mell along the grounds, despite the shakiness of his limbs, into the school, somehow knowing where his godson was…

OoOoOoOoOo

Said godson was busy explaining himself to his two best friends. Draco was seated next to him, as neither Ron nor Hermione wanted to be seated near the pureblood Slytherin, bane of their existence (second only to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course). Concealing and Silencing Charms were carefully set up, so if anyone passed by, they would see and hear nothing but an empty bookcase (which would have seemed odd anyway in the book-saturated library.)

"So what you're saying is that…you're _dating_ Ferret Face?"

"Yes, Weasel, that is what we're saying."

"But…you're dating _Ferret Face_!" The mere suggestion was making Ron pale under his freckles. When Harry had first broken the news with a jaunty "Hey guys, guess what; I'm dating Draco Malfoy!" the youngest Weasley male had gaped open mouthed at him for five full minutes.

He'd only snapped out of his stupor when Draco had made a snarky comment about how his already insufficient brains had burnt out completely. Even then it was only to sling an insult in retaliation about how 'purebloods had _no_ brains to speak of because of inbreeding'.

Harry sighed. Those two would never get past the petty name calling. Ferret and Weasel. Really, he had set his hopes high if he expected them to get along at all. Then again, they were sitting opposite each other, and no hexes had been cast. Yet.

Hermione's voice cut in through his thoughts. "Harry, are you sure you're in your right mind?"

"Of course I am, Hermione! What do you take me for?" The Gryffindor felt indignant, and his expression attested to that.

"Maybe Granger is suggesting that I have cast a spell on you," Draco said, and Hermione gave him a withering look. Harry, however, was pleased to note that he had called the Muggle-born 'Granger' and not 'Mudblood'.

He smiled inwardly, feeling suddenly cheeky, and solemnly turned to Draco. "The only spell you cast on me is on my heart, Draco, my love," he said with a straight face, placing his hand over his chest, and batting his eyelids coyly as he had seen many of his admirers do. The effect would have been more effective if his emerald eyes had been unobstructed by glasses.

At this Ron gave a snort of laughter, joined in by (surprisingly) Draco. Although, if anyone dared to suggest that a Malfoy _snorted_, he or she would find themselves at the end of an untraceable Dark Curse.

"Spare me the clichés, Harry."

"Yeah, mate, seriously, it doesn't suit you," Ron said, between sniggers.

"Do you know sometimes he monologues when he thinks no one's listening?" Draco asked Ron, a sly smile plastered on his face.

"Yeah! It gets really weird! And when he's all brooding-"

"-And you can't get a word through to him?"

"Exactly!" The two boys smiled at each other, until of course they remembered that they had been sworn enemies since the first day of school. That, and there had been a feud between their families for generations now. It had something to do with a Weasley girl refusing to marry a Malfoy, instead running off with a poor wizard. Or maybe it was a Malfoy girl. No one was bothered to find out.

Harry exchanged a bemused glance with Hermione, both silently conveying how ridiculous their boyfriends were. 'Maybe this _will_ work out…' he thought, a smile lighting up his face. 'Maybe Draco and I _can_ go public. Finally.'

Just then, Ron's blue eyes went wide. "HOLY Mother of Merlin's B-" he started.

"_Ronald_ Weasley!" Hermione's expression could have given their Transfiguration teacher (and Head of House) a run for her Galleons.

"Heh. Sorry, 'Mione," Ron offered sheepishly, giving a half-smile to his girlfriend. He grew serious, meeting Harry's gaze. "Anyway. Look behind you, Harry!"

Harry heard Hermione gasp as she too saw whoever, or whatever, appeared to be behind him. As one, he and Draco turned around; the latter wondering what in Merlin's name could be so significant as to interrupt such an important conversation.

It was a big, shaggy, black dog. A dog that reminded Harry terribly of…

"Sirius…" His voice was no louder than a whisper, and he didn't notice grey eyes glancing at him sharply. The dog's gaze was fixed on him, somehow. And, as far as Harry knew, Hermione's Concealment Charms were flawless. Not even Madam Pince could tell the difference between a normal bookcase and the three Gryffindors during their private time.

At that precise moment, the Hogwarts Librarian deviated from her usual route of patrolling the Library, taking a left turn instead of the usual right. The empty bookcase was worrying enough. Once she saw Sirius in all his Animagus glory, however, staring at the bookcase as if it was a tree he could relieve himself on, her eyes bulged. Sirius, staring at Harry, noticed nothing.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. "Get rid of the charm! NOW!"

In a second, the counter-charms were muttered, and Snuffles gave a joyful bark and leaped into Harry, licking his face. Madam Pince, however…

"Dogs! How dare you bring a dog into my library! He'd better be house trained, Potter! Out! Out!" she screeched, holding her wand at the ready. All four of them (five counting Sirius) knew what would happen if they stayed a moment longer. They gathered all their things at lightning speed and ran out of the door, leaving behind a very livid librarian.

They didn't stop running, looking a very odd sight to passers-by; four students (out of which three were Gryffindors and one was a Slytherin – unheard of!) and a large black dog. The people not jumping out of the way pointed at the strange sight, giggling and whispering.

Finally reaching a deserted corridor, they all bundled into the nearest classroom (thankfully empty), the door of which was promptly barred courtesy Hermione, resident spell caster extraordinaire.

As soon as the door's bolt slid closed, Sirius changed back to human form. One second he was on all fours – looking distinctly different to how Harry remembered he was that night – and next he was sprawled on the floor, with Harry over him, sobbing. (Harry, that is.)

"S-Sirius…I t-thought you were gone! I thought you-you were d-dead…" the boy stuttered through his tears.

"Shh, Harry…it's okay, I've got you now, alright?" The black-haired man made soothing noises, stroking his godson's hair tenderly, and a sad smile graced his lips. He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of a hand – the dust in the room had probably gotten into his eyes, or something.

Meanwhile, Draco stood to the side, his eyes narrowed shrewdly. He ticked off a mental checklist, and then nodded sharply to himself as he came to a decision. He pointedly stepped to the side and elbowed Granger in the ribs, none to gently. Harry wasn't looking in their direction anyway, so no need for false niceties.

"What?" she hissed, her eyes still on Harry and Sirius. Draco noticed that they were glistened over, but didn't deign to comment. He didn't want to accidentally set her off and then be on the receiving end of a bushy-haired, blubbering Mud – Muggleborn. See Harry? He was trying!

"That man. He is Sirius Black, no?" Draco said back in an undertone, giving a sharp motion of the head in the vague direction of the ex-convict, although Granger wasn't even looking at the Slytherin.

"Yes, Malfoy. Harry's godfather, who, until recently, was believed dead," she whispered. Then she turned to him and met his eyes smugly, adding a matter-of-factly, "Not that _you'd_ know that of course."

At these words, Draco felt his annoyance grow. However, he pushed this aside, and sneered at the Gryffindor girl, stepping away from her before he caught some dreadful disease. Of course Harry would not like the fact he still thought Mud – Muggleborns were below him, but what the hey. Right now Harry needed the relief of getting his godfather back from the dead. He remembered, what was only a day or two ago, when he himself had comforted Harry.

After a while, Harry pulled out of Sirius' embrace and wiped his cheeks, a little embarrassed, if his blush was any indication. Draco thought it was adorable. Except Malfoys never used adjectives like 'adorable'. Harry shifted off his godfather so Sirius could sit up comfortably.

"So…I suppose you have a lot of questions."

OoOoOoOoOo

Yeah. I'm sure I had a reason for bringing Sirius back to the land of the living, but that went missing, along with my old computer's hard disk and my remaining sanity. Rest assured that I _will_ figure out a purpose for him…eventually.

I won't kill him off. Maybe.

Oh, and the whole "Holy Mother of Merlin's B-" thing? I just edited the phrase. I just don't see purebloods, _wizards_ even, going around saying Mother F—cker, seeing as they say "Oh Merlin" instead of "Oh God" already. As for the full phrase…imagine what you will. _Don't_ email me saying how lame it is. I already know.

Hermione reads a lot, and therefore knows about it.

06.05.07 Edited prologue and chapters 1, 2 & 3.


	5. 04 Beyond the Veil

Fait Accompli

Chapter 4 – Beyond the Veil

"Questions?" Harry let out a shaky laugh, before climbing off his godfather's legs and sitting on the cold stone floor. "Of _course_ I have questions! How did you get here? What happened when you fell through the Veil? What did you see? Did…did you meet Mum and Dad?" This last enquiry was more of a whisper than anything, and Harry's already teary eyes went blurry again.

"Whoa, whoa, kiddo. One at a time." Sirius smiled the genuinely happy smile that used to haunt Harry's nightmares. He ruffled his godson's already messy hair. "Actually, I'd rather explain to everyone all at once. Saves me a lot of time." He grinned wickedly. "So what say we get off this dusty floor and go visit that old coot?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Draco helped Harry to his feet; a move that did not go unnoticed by Sirius, especially when the two boys did not let go of each others' hands, Harry clinging onto Draco's like it was a lifeline. The ex-convict's eyes narrowed as he watched the Slytherin gently wipe away his godson's tears, even going so far as to murmur something into his ear that made Harry _smile_.

Indeed, on any other day, Draco would have been happy to let the Weasel-ey or the Mud-ggleborn to help Harry up, and then comfort him in private. _On any other day_. But if Harry wanted everyone to know about their relationship…then he'd have to make some changes. His grey eyes glared at Sirius, as if daring him to comment.

Those eyes, however, only widened in surprise when Sirius started guffawing, and then erupted into full-blown laughter.

How…odd. To say that would be the understatement of the week, right after Professor de Mille (the new DADA teacher) commenting on Hermione's interest in books. (Or, if you counted sarcasm; Snape's dry observation of Neville only being _slightly _clumsy.) But I digress.

"Sirius, mate…what the –?" Ron was wordless, and Draco had to squeeze Harry's hand to prevent himself from making a malicious remark. He ignored the green-eyed Gryffindor's questioning look.

Hermione – who had already gone through her mental list of Magical Maladies, finding nothing – deduced the man's bizarre behaviour as fatigue, or maybe a side effect of falling through the Veil. She took a tentative step towards him, asking if he was alright. He waved a hand at her, now wheezing for breath. Obviously, his age had caught up with him, although his cropped hair and clean-shaven face defied that statement.

Once he regained his composure, he straightened and approached Draco. The Slytherin drew himself to his full height (he was almost as tall as Sirius) and his grip on Harry tightened in apprehension. But Sirius only smiled at him.

"Draco Malfoy, I presume?" he asked congenially, and waited for Draco's slight nod before continuing. "I knew I recognised you. You look a lot like your father (I'm sure you get that a lot) except for the hair and the eyes. I knew Lucius; he was a year above us, and a right bastard. I knew your mother too; used to have a crush on Narcissa, right up till I found out she was a cousin." He gave a chuckle.

Draco had not expected this at all. Of course, that wasn't to say he _had_ expected to meet Harry's up-until-now _dead_ godfather. But, if Draco was in the practice of envisioning get-togethers with deceased relatives (blood or no) of his boyfriend, then he would not have pegged Sirius to be so…down-to-earth.

After all, who had ever heard of a sane murderer who had killed thirteen people after betraying his best friends? Oh, wait. Harry had explained to him that Sirius was, in fact, innocent. He'd forgotten.

Draco Malfoy, for once, had nothing to say.

"I think you've just rendered Draco speechless, Sirius," said Harry, grinning. "I've been trying to do that for _years_!"

OoOoOoOoOo

Sirius was the one who guessed the password to Dumbledore's office ('Dumbledore's Donuts!' – a product by Aberforth Dumbledore, Albus' brother, that was recalled once Ministry wizards found out there were goat elements in the donuts) and cheerfully stepped onto the revolving staircase in the guise of Snuffles, followed by Harry and Draco.

Ron and Hermione had gone back to the Common Room to tell Ginny, and to create a suitable alibi for Harry's expected absence for the rest of the day. It would have been too crowded in Dumbledore's office if all of them had gone, even if it wouldn't have looked odd for the four students to be seen going there. Harry and Draco _were_ known to be sent to the Headmaster after a particularly nasty fight in class.

Anyway, as Ron pointed out reasonably, Harry would undoubtedly _tell_ them what went on.

Dumbledore (and his guests) did not expect to see the black dog bounding through the door, followed by Hogwarts' most famous and infamous students.

Harry, Draco, and Sirius did not expect to see Remus Lupin and Severus Snape sitting side-by-side on an overstuffed couch, drinking tea _peacefully_.

Remus broke the silence, sipping his tea politely. "You see, Headmaster? These hallucinations are becoming more and more frequent. Why, I can see Sirius' Animagus form standing right in the door of your office."

Snape's teacup rattled as he set it down violently on a small floating tray. "I can see him too, Lupin. What's more, I can see Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter, both without marks from a fight." He turned to the man beside him. "I think your hallucinations are contagious. Perhaps we _should_ have gone to St. Mungo's."

Draco smirked. If his godfather couldn't see any mark on him, then the glamour hiding his hickey from last night was still in place. Who would have thought Harry had such a _creature_ hiding in him?

Harry, unlike his Slytherin boyfriend, was _not_ thinking of last night (enjoyable though it was). Instead, he was trying his best to contain his laughter at the straight face Snape had as he said such a _ridiculous_ statement. Since when were hallucinations _contagious_?

Dumbledore was effectively gob-smacked. He had never been surprised like this, unless you counted the time his kitten, Calliope (a gift from his brother) had spontaneously exploded. But that is a story for another time.

Sirius changed back into his human form and Remus choked on his tea. Strangely, the Slytherin Head of House was the one who thumped his back. Harry began to wonder if it all _was_ just a hallucination – but Draco's fingers entwined with his debunked that theory.

"You aren't hallucinating, Moony."

The werewolf gaped at Sirius for a full five seconds, and then stood as if to embrace him. Oddly enough, it was the Potions Master who pulled him back down, all the while glaring at his until-now dead nemesis.

"Black fell through that damned Veil. How are we sure this isn't some trick? That young master Malfoy has somehow bewitched the Potter brat and is using this…apparition to distract us while the schoolchildren are being killed?" He sneered.

Sirius snorted. "As trusting as ever, Snivellus. Don't you believe I'm me, Remus?"

Remus averted his eyes from his dead-friend's grey-blue ones. "I agree with Severus. Who's to say you aren't an enchantment? You _can't_ be alive, Sirius. I've only just acknowledged that you've died. You can't be alive. You can't be."

"Oh yeah? Then kindly explain how _Voldemort_ knows that the Order of the Phoenix meets at No. 12 Grimmauld Place?"

"If the Dark Lord has control of Harry Potter, why shouldn't he know?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin – does Harry _look_ like he's possessed?"

"Anything's possible, seeing as he is standing so very calmly next to Mr. Malfoy."

Draco started, and then let go of Harry's hand. It was a miracle none of the Professors had seen the action. He cast a reassuring glance in Harry's direction, and was thankful to see that the other boy understood the reason for his letting go.

"You cannot be alive, Sirius." Remus sounded almost desperate, pleading. "You don't even look the same."

Snape pounced on that statement. "Yes, that's right. Would you care to explain your appearance? The Black _I_ knew looked like the unkempt dog he was!"

"Oh, just use your damned Occlumency, you great, greasy git!" He glared at his childhood nemesis; baring his secrets and memories to the man he hated the most (besides Wormtail and Voldemort, of course).

Snape was silent for a long time. Then he stood, startling Remus.

"It seems that death itself is not enough of an impediment of your devastation of my life, Black."

He pushed past Sirius, (Harry and Draco had to jump out of the way) but was stopped by a soft "Severus." He paused for one moment, before looking back over his shoulder at the werewolf on the couch. "I will deliver your Wolfsbane to your office later, Lupin." His robes swept up impressively as he strode out.

With that simple sentence, Remus' face broke out in an expression of utter relief. Perhaps he had been thinking that the appearance of Sirius would cause Snape to Evanesco all the Wolfsbane in spite.

Dumbledore finally closed his mouth with a snap. He decided to deal with the most simple matter first. "Mr. Malfoy, did you want to see me? I do not think you came solely to accompany Mr. Potter."

Draco sneered, and thought quickly. "I came to see my Head of House. I'm hardly interested in _Potter's_ affairs – uninteresting as they are." He shot a smirk at his boyfriend, met with a realistic glare. Harry mumbled an insult, obviously unwilling to swear in front of the Headmaster.

"Then, Mr. Malfoy, I think you would find Professor Snape in his quarters." That was a polite way of saying 'We're gonna talk secret stuff, so get out NOW'. With a parting sneer at the room, (and a slight wink at Harry) Draco, too, was gone.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "Now, to business, I suppose. Sirius, my boy, how in Merlin's name –" He didn't need to voice the question. They were all thinking it. _How in Merlin's name did you return from the dead?_

Sirius did not answer straightaway. The first thing he did was to pull Remus to his feet and into his arms.

OoOoOoOoOo

The Gryffindor Common Room was as noisy as it always was on Saturday nights.

Now, even though the Weasley twins had left last year – with much aplomb, I must say – there were still misfits. After all, we're talking about _Gryffindor_ house. Since Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was doing so well (thanks to Harry's little, shall we say, investment) there had been many anonymous packages addressed to '_The Mischievous Students of Gryffindor Common Room_'. Obviously from the Weasley twins, the packages were filled to the brim with their newest products, to be used at the Gryffindors' discretion. Ultimately, it maintained everyone's high spirits (that is, everyone who wasn't a victim of those pranks) as well as kept the Weasley twins' legacy alive.

Right now, someone had set loose a few Parchment Planes™, somewhat like the Muggle paper plane, except Muggle planes didn't look like someone had attached a firework to its end. Crazily colourful sparks danced around over the heads of the Gryffindors, as the first years cheered the planes on.

Ron and Hermione sat in front of the fire, both Prefects willing to let the hubbub go on (although it was only ever the Muggle-born who made any fuss about it). They had foregone the cushy armchairs, instead sitting cuddled together on the carpet, far enough from the fire to not be at risk from any sparks. It seemed like they had both decided to let their relationship out in the open – although no one was really surprised.

Loathe as Harry was to disturb them – because, really, Harry is very forgiving and had forgotten all about their spat in the morning – he strode up to the two and sat beside them. "Hey, you guys."

Both of them smiled at him. "Harry, mate, about this morning –"

Harry shook his head. "It's alright. If I was still angry about that I'd be a bit hypocritical, wouldn't I?"

They all exchanged smiles at that, and lapsed into silence, enjoying the camaraderie between them. They didn't even turn around when one of the First Years started yelling about a fire – although they did snigger once they heard the scolding little Anna Belladonna got. Or, at least, Ron and Harry sniggered, while Hermione shook her head disapprovingly.

It was the bushy-haired girl who broke the silence. "So what explanation did Dumbledore have, Harry?"

"Well, surprisingly, he didn't _have_ one." Harry laughed at the expressions on his friends' faces. "I know, shocking, isn't it?"

"Harry, 'shocking' doesn't even begin to cover it." Ron played with a lock of Hermione's hair as he tried to quell his amazement. Imagine, the defeater of Grindelwald, not knowing something! It was simply…inconceivable.

"However, he did mention that Hermione would lead the research, seeing as (and I quote) 'Miss Granger will undoubtedly rush off to the library'."

Hermione pouted at this, but gave a mischievous grin anyway. Even though her teeth had been fixed in Fourth Year, it was only this year (and therefore after getting together with Ron, I should think) she smiled more often. Over the summer she had gotten her hair cut shorter and went through _some_ treatment – you didn't actually think the boys paid any attention to Hermione and Ginny talking fashion did you? – that made it smoother instead of it poof-ing out in every direction without the extra weight of her long hair.

She had told Ginny that she wanted a change. The full truth was that she had resolved to be different this year, not so absorbed in her books, to be more loyal, to be braver. The night at the Ministry (and Dolohov's curse) was not something she wanted recurring. The new appearance was part of that transformation.

In contrast, Ron had let his hair grow out. Although this had met with much opposition from the Weasley matriarch (Molly was still against Bill's ponytail – which probably explained why the curse-breaker had chosen to work in Egypt. I'm just saying.) Ron had somehow gotten through the argument with all his limbs intact.

Maybe it had something to do with the way he yelled about how long hair helped cover the scars from the thricedamned brain he had _Accioed_ (**1**). His mother had gone very white, but nodded tersely, and that had been the end of the argument. In Fourth Year when he had been extremely immature (he could admit it now) and had doubted Harry, all he wanted was to be famous because of a scar. Now he knew scars were overrated.

Although it felt nice whenever 'Mione stroked them.

And what about our Boy-Who-Lived? What changes had he gone through over the summer?

Well, his hair was still the same length it had been the year before, still jet-black, still unruly. He figured it was his magic that kept his hair short – after all, it was because of his magic that he was saved from potential humiliation with Aunt Petunia's Haircut from Hell. He still had his round glasses framing his emerald eyes – much to Draco's chagrin. The Slytherin had complained that they were ugly, and that they were a complete nuisance. If someone knocked him down and he lost his glasses, how in Merlin's name was he going to curse _anyone_, much less the Dark Lord?

"Plus they get in the way of our snogging," Draco had added slyly. Harry had blushed.

Musing over this, Harry changed the subject abruptly, and said, "So, lovebirds, mind telling me when you two _finally_ got your act together?"

OoOoOoOoOo

(**1**) In _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, _the tentacles from the brain wrapped themselves around Ron's chest. I am taking poetic license in saying that the tentacles also wrapped around his neck, and left scars. Whether Hermione stroked the ones on his neck or on his chest is up to your imagination.

The much awaited fourth chapter. Kindly (if you have not done so already) take a second look at the preceding chapters, as they have been fleshed out, and may contain information that is essential to the plot. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.

I do not own the universe of Harry Potter.

22.10.2007 – Finished chapter 4.


	6. 05 Paper Crane

Fait Accompli

Chapter 5 – Paper Crane

The word Origami comes from the combination of the Japanese words 'ori' (which meant folding) and 'kami' (which meant paper or God). The Chinese wizards had brought the secret of making paper to the Japanese during the great conquest. Since then the Japanese wizards had come up with many different shapes to be folded, basing these shapes on nature. There was the bird in flight, the sitting camel, and even the pig.

The Japanese wizards had even gone so far as to develop spells that helped in the process – not to fold the paper, no, that was a skill one had to _acquire_ – but to animate the Origami. After all, the Muggles may think it sufficient to leave the finished products as inanimate paper, but it was far more rewarding to see one's Origami frog jump about the room without any manual means.

Lucius Malfoy was undoubtedly a shrewd man, for all that he seemed to prefer subtle manipulation, veiled threats, and – _ahem_ – monetary _assistance_ in times of need. He had contacts in almost every country in the world, even before he had joined the Dark Lord.

Some, like France and Spain, were because the Malfoy family had many estates in said countries, and had even played a part in both countries histories for centuries – be it in wars or political marriages. Other countries, especially in the continent of Asia, Lucius had seen to himself. Oh, many of his companions laughed at him (behind his back, of course) when he casually mentioned the fact that he had _friends_ in the Asian countries. After all, even if he _was_ a Malfoy, he was very young, just graduated. "The Americas show potential," they had said, with polite smiles and derisive eyes. "Even Canada has some promise."

Carefully not mentioning the fact that he already had contacts in the mentioned places, Lucius had only accepted this 'advice' with a gracious nod, every inch the silly youngster who had made a sillier mistake, which had made the older men puff out proudly like peacocks.

Lucius Malfoy, although sometimes compared to a peacock due to his manner of dress, had considerably more _brains_ than the birds. Nearing the new millennium, countries like China, Japan, Korea and Singapore were on the rise. His contacts were extremely helpful in advising him, and by the time Draco had started his sixth year the Malfoy moneys had been doubled (no small feat) due to the various herbal medicines, Potions ingredients and (walking the fine line between legal and illegal) Dark Artefacts.

Needless to say, his 'companions', his 'chums', his – what was the word he had heard Weasley use? Ah yes – his '_mates_', had been spluttering with rage. Not literally of course, because it was hardly dignified to splutter over one's tea and petit fours. Emotion was a weakness that was exploited, something Lucius had been very good at even from a young age. Draco had been thought accordingly.

His contacts in Japan had been the reason he had escaped Azkaban, in a way. While he had only arrived in Nagasaki the night of Halloween, he had _told_ the Ministry that he had been there for months, and even claimed that he was being treated for excessive use of the Imperius Curse. He had certainly not joined the Dark Lord at his own free will. How preposterous.

Although the Malfoy patriarch had not offered them any money (they had a very strong sense of honour about such things) or even threatened them (he would not jeopardise anything business related), Lucius' contacts provided the Ministry with the 'verification' needed. Evidently they thought that having Lucius as a bridge to the West was far more important than some silly evil megalomaniac.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, depending on your point of view) Lucius actually had to _spend_ a few more months in Japan to further verify his…alibi. So he bought a nice villa near Nagasaki (because it isn't exactly pleasant to live in a fast developing city with its never-ending hustle and bustle) and invited over a few Healers from all parts of Japan, to keep up appearances. Narcissa and Draco – by then about 4 months old – had joined him as well, for _moral support_.

The point I am trying to make is that now that the Malfoys had _another_ manor in _another_ country, it had to be inhabited from time to time to be…aired out. Although they could just get the House Elves to do that, it was more that they were parading the fact that they had money, so there.

They visited Japan twice more after that, once when Draco was five, and once more during the Christmas break of his Third Year. As a child, Draco had been delighted whenever one of the Japanese wizards or witches had gifted him with little Origami. It was during his Third Year that he actually forced one (politely) to teach him.

It explained why he liked to use them to carry out messages within the castle. After all, the owls couldn't reach anyone in the dungeons – there were few windows, none very accessible by air, and their common room was protected by the standard foot of solid rock. Their post, if not delivered at breakfast, was magicked (**1**) onto the recipient's bed.

The only trouble was that by Fourth Year _everyone_ in the school knew that Draco Malfoy (more commonly known either as 'that _hot_, blonde Slytherin bloke' or 'that Malfoy bastard') sent his letters in the form of Origami cranes.

So it would be a problem if he wanted to, oh say, send a note to Harry. He could just imagine the furore in the Gryffindor common room:

"_Harry, mate, there's a flying paper bird behind you," Weasel would say, obviously lacking the knowledge about Origami. Probably because his family was to poor to afford a decent education, much less a trip to Japan._

"_It's a paper crane, __**Ron**__. So it must be from Malfoy." That would be the Mudblood, whose Muggle upbringing (shudder) would make her quite knowledgeable about some things – she would probably run off to the library to find out which spells made Origami sentient. Unluckily for her, huge though the Hogwarts library was, the spells for Origami were passed on by word of mouth._

"_What!? MALFOY? What's Malfoy doing writing things to Harry for?" Weasel, apoplectic with rage, would probably snatch the hapless Origami from Harry's hands and rip it open. "'Harry, meet me by the Whomping Willow at seven, bring –' Harry! What's this git going to do with a blanket and chocolate?"_

_This, being said at high volume (i.e. normal Weasel Speak) would cause all shit to break loose._

Draco shuddered slightly, and finished inking the message on the paper he was using. He set his quill down, and sat back in the chair to wait for the ink to dry. After seeing his godfather (he _did_ say he was going to see Professor Snape anyway) he had returned to the Slytherin common room to finish his homework. Indeed, the newly written missive-to-Harry was the last on his to-do list, and had actually been a spare piece of parchment he had done Arithmancy workings on – before he spelled them off.

What? There was no point wasting good parchment, even if your father could buy enough to fill Hogwarts.

Pansy Parkinson sat down next to him, pushing her hair behind an ear. Now that the girl had grown her hair out slightly it made her nose less…pug-like, and therefore made her face more pleasant to look at. She took one look at the letter he had written, and snorted. "Will you never grow up, Draco?"

"Of course not, Pansy. Why would I? I'm destined to stay young and beautiful forever, but don't be jealous, I shall never forget you."

Pansy gave him a Look, which, when used on people who were not Draco, could potentially kill. Kill, and then bring back to life, and then kill again. It helped her with a lot of things, especially when she was lacking in blackmail material. "Are you done with your Arithmancy homework, darling? I'm stuck on the third question." She pulled out her parchment and showed it to him.

He spared it a glance; made an amused face at the purple ink she used, and then said, "Try linking it to Fermat's probability theory (**2**) in chapter nine." He left her to it, and started folding his parchment diagonally while Pansy flipped through her textbook and mumbled calculations under her breath.

They finished at the same time, and Draco smirked at another flawless Origami. "You got the answer, Pansy?" Without waiting for an answer he grabbed her homework and started looking through it.

Pansy picked the crane up carefully, and peered at it. "I don't understand how you do it, Draco. Or why. Can't you send owls like normal people?"

"You forgot to add this number, Pans." He pointed out the mistake. "And I am naturally above such plebeian ways of communication. Sending Origami takes skill and is far more elegant than a ruddy bird that might just shit all over your important essays."

She rolled her eyes. "Did you hear Greengrass and Nott were found by Flitwick in the First Year's Charms classroom? No Silencing charm or anything!"

"Greengrass definitely has no taste in men," Draco replied, grimacing at the thought of the weedy-looking Theodore Nott.

"Oh, and _you_ do, darling?"

Draco thought about Harry, and he flashed Pansy a rare smile. "Certainly, Pans."

Pansy would have squealed, but she knew they needed privacy. "Who is it, Draco?" she asked excitedly, keeping her voice low.

"Later, Pans. Excuse me while I send this." He crossed the common room gracefully, and stepped out into the corridor outside. Draco tapped the Origami once with his wand, murmured the spell, and then breathed "Harry Potter." The crane took off out of sight, and Draco returned to Pansy's side, ignoring her knowing look.

"Wait, wasn't Greengrass snogging Boot just last week?"

Pansy smirked. "Exactly. Are you speaking to her, or am I?"

"You. Kindly remind her that Slytherins do _not_ get caught by professors. Bad enough Gryffindor is in the lead; our house does not need more points taken away. Oh, and tell her to keep in mind that extra credit goes a long way. Longbottom isn't the only one who's good at Herbology."

"Done and done. When are the Quidditch tryouts, darling?"

He smirked at her and rolled up his Arithmancy scroll. "Why? Planning on joining?"

"Of _course_ not, Draco. My beautiful hair will get messed up. And besides, who's going to jinx the other team?"

That was true. Although no one could directly sabotage the Quidditch players or their brooms for fear of disciplinary action, it was fine if non-harmful (physically, anyway) jinxes were used. Draco still remembered when the Slytherins, under Pansy's direction, had turned the Ravenclaw team a very fetching shade of green-and-silver in one of their games in Fifth Year.

Ah, good times.

OoOoOoOoOo

A few minutes later, across the castle in the Gryffindor common room, something bumped into Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, mate, there's a flying paper bird behind you," Ron said.

"It's a paper crane, _Ron_. So it must be from Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes. She had never holidayed in Japan before, but she did remember making (or attempting to, anyway) Origami in preschool. It had also been the day she'd done magic for the first time (without realising at the time, of course) by setting Timothy Pearson's finger painting on fire. (It had been the last time he bullied her – although the teachers reassured him that Hermione had been in no way responsible.)

She wondered if the library had books on animating Origami – or whether the truce with Malfoy would enable her to ask him herself.

"What!? MALFOY? What's Malfoy doing writing things to Harry for – oh, wait."

Harry smiled wryly, and then reached behind him to take the Origami – if it had been there, in the first place.

"What _is_ Malfoy doing sending Origami to you, Harry?"

Ron closed his eyes. He couldn't look. Sure, yesterday he would have been happy to set up his sister with his best friend. Merlin, up until a few hours ago, he would have been happy to hear that Harry and Ginny were getting married and were planning to get a nice house near the Burrow with a white picket fence, a pet Kneazle, and with loads of red-haired, emerald-eyed children who'd call him 'Uncle Ron'.

Unfortunately, with the whole Harry-being-gay-and-with-Malfoy thing…it didn't seem like a very likely scenario – the Harry-marrying-Ginny didn't seem very likely, that is.

But, like watching a train wreck, Ron couldn't _not_ look. He opened his eyes cautiously, and noticed that they now had the attention of the whole common room. Even the Firsties, who probably didn't understand the significance of Harry receiving a letter from a Slytherin – and a Malfoy, no less – had abandoned their Parchment Planes. His hand found Hermione's, for support, and this was probably what spurred her into action.

"It's most likely some insult, Ginny. We should just throw it into the fire."

"Well, if it's an insult, it doesn't matter if any of us read it, does it? Besides, that git Malfoy wanted to 'talk' to Harry in the library. Maybe this has something to do with it," Ginny replied tartly.

Ron wondered when his sister decided she could be rude to Hermione, of all people. He tried a different tactic. "What if the Ferret cursed it?" Ron knew that his girlfriend probably wanted to hit him for using Malfoy's 'nickname', but hey, it would have been suspicious if he hadn't, right? (And really, boyfriend or no boyfriend, Ron was _not_ going to call him 'Draco'. Ugh.)

"Then I'll gladly get cursed; better me than Harry, right?"

Someone laughed. Everyone turned, surprised, to Harry. Most of them had not heard Harry laugh properly, since, well, Fifth year. Ginny looked more offended than shocked, probably because she thought Harry was laughing _at_ her.

"Don't worry, Ginny. I doubt he'd do it. He was pretty cordial when we spoke in the library."

Here Ron snorted, mostly out of habit, but he figured that people would've thought it pretty suspicious if he hadn't. Or so he planned to tell Hermione, anyway, judging by the way she dug her elbow between his ribs. But, really, Draco Malfoy, _cordial_? Vol – You-Know-Who was more likely to be defeated by a Cheering Charm.

Harry watched serenely as Ginny unfolded the crane, while Ron and Hermione looked on worriedly. How could Harry be so _calm_?

"Oh. You're right, Hermione. It is just an insult." Losing interest, Ginny handed the creased parchment to Harry, said a round of farewells, and then went up to her dormitory.

Harry glanced at the parchment, smiled slightly, and then yawned – although it looked a tad forced –, and then got up as well. "I'm off upstairs, too. Got Quidditch practice tomorrow. You coming, Ron?"

The redhead glanced at his girlfriend. "I'll be up in a bit, Harry." He blushed at the knowing look Harry gave him.

"Harry, do you mind if I look at the letter Malfoy sent you?"

"Sure 'Mione. Good night, you two." He leaned down, and then said in a low voice, "I'll be taking the Cloak and the Map, so don't worry about me."

Ron, as he watched his best friend climb the stairs, could have sworn that Harry meant to visit Malfoy tonight. But he wouldn't – would he? He started as he heard Hermione laugh suddenly.

"What? What's so funny?"

"This! Malfoy…Malfoy's a genius!" Of course, Hermione's voice was low, so no one would overhear them.

"Malfoy? A _genius_? I find that very unlikely, 'Mione," Ron replied, somewhat disgruntled.

"No! Just look at this." She shoved the parchment under his nose.

_Potter, you stink. As usual. So here's a reminder for you to have a bath, because I am _such_ a kindred soul._

_Draco Malfoy._

Ron was nonplussed. Was Malfoy _actually_ Harry's boyfriend, if he could insult him like that? "What? How does being cheeky make Malfoy a genius?"

She rolled her eyes, an action that was both endearing and exasperating to Ron. "Do _try_ to think, Ronald. Where was Malfoy last night?"

"The Prefects' Bath? I still don't –"

"And didn't you notice that he waited just a moment too long before shutting the door behind him?"

"I thought he was just goading –"

"It's obvious that Harry was there, under his Invisibility Cloak!" finished Hermione, voice triumphant although soft.

There was a slight pause, and then Ron made a face. "Ew."

His girlfriend swatted his arm. "Be nice, Ronald."

"Hey, just because I don't exactly _want_ the image of my best friend and –"

Hermione interrupted him again. This time with her mouth. Hey, he wasn't complaining. It was better than the image of a naked Harry and – _ew, no, no!_

OoOoOoOoOo

(**1**) Once again, not a word. As for the Slytherin post service…eh, I claim poetic licence.

(**2**) Pierre de Fermat and Blaise Pascal did most of the work in probability theory in the 16th Century. Again, poetic licence.

Pay attention to the beginning of this chapter, readers. It will play a significant role in later chapters. Ooh, signs of planning. Please leave a review, of whatever length. (Although I _do_ love long ones.)

I do not own the universe of Harry Potter.

26.11.07 – Finished chapter 5.


	7. 06 Exploring

Fait Accompli

Chapter 6 – Exploring

"Why are you _never_ on time?"

Harry hid his smile as he closed the door of the Prefect's Bathroom. Of course, Draco would not have been able to see this smile, as the Gryffindor was currently wearing his Invisibility Cloak, but sometimes Draco had the uncanny ability to know Harry's facial expression, Cloak or no.

"I'm sure I would have arrived earlier if I hadn't suddenly remembered that I haven't finished my Potions' essay (due on Monday) every time I approached the door."

Draco looked stricken. "I – I'm sorry, I forgot I put that spell on the door. It's a habit now, whenever I cast locking spells and need my privacy. But I thought –" And here Draco somehow knew that Harry was grinning like a loon, despite the fact that the Invisibility Cloak had not yet been removed. "You prat! You _can_ throw off that spell!"

Harry finally allowed himself the luxury of laughing, and that he did long and hard. When he had calmed down somewhat, he took off the Cloak, revealing the highly familiar (and attractive, of course) face of Harry Potter. "I can't throw off the spell, Draco. It makes anyone who approaches think of an important appointment they have – and, what can I say, Potions' essays pale in comparison to you."

Draco did not blush at these words – he was not a Hufflepuff, thankyouverymuch – but he _did_ feel absurdly pleased. Nevertheless, his original question had not been answered satisfactorily. He scowled. "As important as I am, you still took your time getting here."

"Well, _excuse me_; I had to dodge Filch, Norris, _and_ Snape. You don't know how much ground they can cover!"

"You had your Invisibility Cloak, and the Map," Draco stated flatly, as he stood up and approached Harry. "I still don't see why you were late."

"Um, well, you see –"

"_Especially _since you claim that meeting me is more important than anything else."

"It _is_!" Harry was getting slightly nervous as Draco came closer and closer. "I just have to make sure no one sees me leave the Common Room – and since today's a Saturday, it's especially crowded. What're you doing?" His grin faltered as Draco drew his wand.

"You need to be sneakier, Harry." Draco let fly a series of non-verbal spells.

Harry almost reached for his wand, almost, but then realised that the Slytherin was replacing the spells on the door. That was probably wise – they did not want a repeat of last night. Yeesh. However, even when he finished placing the spells, Draco still did not stop walking towards Harry, and still did not put his wand away.

"Er...What're you doing, Draco?"

"Me? I am merely going to teach you a lesson, Harry." The smile on Draco's face was dangerous, and he closed in.

OoOoOoOoOo

Harry licked his lips, and tightened his grip on the shaft of his wand.

The wind had really picked up since afternoon, bringing in evil looking rainclouds. Even if Harry was Quidditch Captain this year, he was in no way a fanatic - like Oliver and Angelina had been. If there was even a smidgen of rain, the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team would retreat inside the castle, to discuss strategies over hot chocolate. For Harry was carrying out Quidditch practice.

What? What did you think he was doing?

"Coote, hold that bat firmly!" he yelled, as the new Beater had to dive to retrieve his Beater's Bat yet again.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Harry shook his head in amusement, and continued looking for the Snitch – while keeping a watchful eye out for Bludgers, the Quaffle and/or any of his teammates. They may have been the best out of the Gryffindors that turned up for tryouts, but Merlin, they tended to get a little _too_ involved in their mock-games. Let us just ignore the fact that Harry here was the same in his earlier years.

In the end, however, the Gryffindor team ended their practice without any injuries. Well, unless you counted a few bruises and one black eye as 'injuries'. What? There were more serious injuries in Quidditch – and, besides, Madam Pomfrey could heal bruises in a few seconds.

Harry was the last to leave the pitch (as usual) after waving off his housemates. After all, Katie really needed to get that eye looked at, and he didn't need Ginny trying to corner him. Luckily, Ron managed to drag his sister away, claiming that she desperately needed a bath. If he strained his ears, Harry was sure that he'd still be able to hear their arguing. Ah, the Weasleys. They sometimes made him glad he didn't have any siblings. Draco would probably have made a snarky comment if Harry ever mentioned it to him.

However, just as he replaced the lid on the crate containing the Quidditch balls, someone cleared their throat. He straightened to see who it was.

"Parkinson," Harry said, surprised as he saw the Slytherin girl. It was only now that he realised that she had changed her hairstyle – unlike his boyfriend, Harry is less observant about those not in his immediate social clique.

"Potter," she mimicked, nodding to him.

Harry felt lightheaded. A Slytherin, being civil to Harry Potter! (Draco didn't count.) The sky was going to fall on their heads, pigs would fly, and Voldemort was going to take part in the Riverdance festival.

After an awkward pause, Harry prompted, "You wanted something?"

"Yes. I know that your relationship with a certain friend of mine has…changed."

"I…see. And?"

"Look, Potter, I'll get straight to the point. Not all of us are fanatics. Not all of us are willing to dirty our robes kneeling before a madman. We are Slytherins, and as such, we do _think_."

Harry frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

The Slytherin girl rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Merlin, Potter! The Slytherins cannot help your cause if no one trusts us! If _you_ extend your hand in friendship –"

"Then other people will as well," Harry finished.

"Exactly." The corners of Pansy's lips quirked upwards in a ghost of a smile. "Draco chose well. You have to lead your people, Potter, whether you like it or not."

Harry wanted to squirm uncomfortably, but controlled himself. He didn't like to think of himself as a leader – but it was undeniable. The Wizarding World (or the Light side of it, anyway) looked on him as a sort of deity, even though Dumbledore was head of the Order. At any rate, Parkinson was right – the Slytherins were unfairly discriminated against. It reminded him of something Draco had mentioned:

"…_Rabastan Lestrange was a Ravenclaw, Barty Crouch Jr. was a Gryffindor – and many Death Eaters aren't even _from_ Britain. And, yet, just because the Dark Lord is a Slytherin, we're singled out. A Hufflepuff has as much of a chance of being a Death Eater as a Slytherin – but _we're_ the ones nobody trusts. How can you promote House unity with that mentality?"_

Only now did those words actually make sense. And they definitely needed the help.

"Thank you," he said, smiling at the girl.

"Don't," she replied. "I never said which cause I am loyal to." But he needed only to look into her eyes to see which. "And we are not friends. I will only tolerate you because you are…important."

However, before she could turn and leave, Harry caught hold of the sleeve of her robe.

"Do you want to be friends, Parkinson?"

The black-haired girl stood there for a long time, staring at Harry's hand until he finally felt embarrassed and let go. Then her gaze lifted to meet his coolly, just long enough to make him want to squirm again.

"Alright. But on one condition."

Before he could ask her what that condition was, she grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him soundly. Then she scampered away, grinning (actually grinning!) madly.

Harry thought he heard her say, "Wait 'til Draco hears!"

Neither of them, however, could have predicted what would happen as a result of Pansy's action. Or, actually, Pansy would, because she had practically planned it. And, once Pansy told him, Draco would too. So only Harry wouldn't have been able to predict what would happen in the near future. But we shall excuse him, because his mind was not on Divination – no, his thoughts centred on _Slytherins_ and _kisses._

And, of course, all thoughts involving _Slytherins_ and _kisses_ inevitably lead to _Draco_.

OoOoOoOoOo

_Draco smirked at Harry, while Harry stared at the tatters that were the remains of his shirt._

"_W-what on Earth did you do that for?"_

"_Oh, don't worry about the shirt – a simple _Reparo_ will take care of it."_

"_That wasn't what I meant, Draco, and you know it."_

"_Of course it wasn't," was all Draco said in reply. The Slytherin placed his wand down on the bench beside them, and then placed a hand on Harry's stomach. He felt the muscles there tighten as Harry tensed._

"_Draco – what –"_

"_Shh, Harry. You know I won't hurt you."_

_Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, and then slowly relaxed. When he finally opened his eyes, Draco had a small smile on his face. Goosebumps erupted on his arms as Draco ran his hand up his chest, and let it rest on the back of his neck. An unbidden frisson of lust ran through his body._

"_Harry," Draco said softly. "We both know what I want. We're both sixteen-year-old boys. It's normal to feel like this. I'm not going to pressure you into anything you aren't ready for…but I can't hold back forever. I would like to say I don't mind waiting for an answer, but I do. I want an answer _now_. This is my price for letting everybody know our relationship, or at least part of it. Do you accept?"_

_Harry's answer was to crush his lips against Draco's._

_Draco smirked, and unbuttoned his own shirt. "I'll take that as a yes."_

OoOoOoOoOo

Ahh. Finally, another chapter finished. Sorry for the wait and the lack of length, but I just couldn't get the right words. At any rate, I hope the next chapter will come out sooner. Review, please!

I do not own the universe of Harry Potter.

11.06.2008 – Finished chapter 6.


	8. 07 House Unity

Fait Accompli

Chapter 7 – House Unity

The next morning dawned bright and clear – quite odd weather, seeing as it had been threatening to rain only the day before. Ah well. The Golden Boy's mood somewhat matched the weather, which was a surprise in and of itself. Usually he was brooding or moody, but as Mrs. Weasley said, who could blame the poor dear?

At any rate, Harry was happy because Draco had sent him another paper crane this morning (it kept bumping against his forehead, and was what had woken him up. Really, what time did Draco wake up, anyway?), confirming a rendezvous on Tuesday – providing they weren't swamped with homework. Because what they would get up to would _not_ give them enough time (or concentration) to get anything productive done.

He pushed thoughts of Draco out of his mind (reluctantly), as he caught sight of Hermione and Ron by the portrait hole. He had told them of Pansy Parkinson's proposal yesterday (Ron had laughed himself silly when Harry recounted the other…'event'), and both of them had agreed that it was a good idea, although Ron was understandably more leery than his girlfriend. The walk to the Great Hall was spent discussing ways to befriend the Slytherins and to get the other Houses involved as well.

None of them noticed the short silence and then furious whispers that filled the Hall when they entered. Perhaps it is because they are used to it already (one of their member _was_ Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake) but it was probably due to the fact that they were too engaged in their discussion. However, I (as the Authoress) am rather omniscient, and can therefore reveal to you, dear readers, that the commotion did have something to do with Harry – and the Daily Prophet. So, you know; nothing _that_ unusual.

Ron did point out that Ginny was nowhere to be found, as Hermione placed slices of toast on their plates (three for Ron, two for Harry and one for her). Harry looked around at that (and didn't really note that a few people looked away guiltily when he did) and indeed didn't see the red-haired girl anywhere.

"That's odd. All her friends are here…"

The friends in question, a gaggle of fifth-year girls, were sitting at the Hufflepuff table, giggling and shooting what they thought were surreptitious glances at Harry. Not that he noticed.

"Maybe she's sick. I'll go check on her during lunch if she's not back by then."

Ron shot a grateful glance at his girlfriend. He was quite protective of his only sister – although their constant bickering said otherwise.

The three of them continued their conversation over breakfast, Harry wondering if they should start during the morning's Potions class.

"I mean, Snape'll take off points if I so much as breathe wrong, extending an olive branch probably isn't going to endear me to him."

"Oh, please. Snape endeared to you is an image I'd like to get out of my head. Bad enough – ow!" Ron rubbed his arm where Hermione had pinched him. "What was that for, 'Mione? Oh – _oh_. Sorry, Harry."

"No harm done, Ron," Harry said amiably, done with his sausages and starting to spread jam on his toast. The wonderful thing about Hogwarts was that the toast never seemed to get soggy – unless you were horribly late for breakfast. Hermione said that this was the House Elves' subtle hint to wake up early. The two boys wisely said nothing to this; they didn't want another S.P.E.W. debacle.

"Anyway," Hermione said, "Snape might just be so shocked he'll forget about taking away points."

"Ahh, Snape fainting from shock. Now that's an image I'd treasure, right after Malfoy as a ferret."

Harry and Hermione laughed. It was hard not to, really. Although it was still something of a sore spot for Draco. Obviously; I mean, it was a rather scarring incident – I couldn't ever imagine suddenly being covered with fur and being bounced off a marble floor. Then again, it isn't exactly something that would happen to me, considering the world _I_ live in, so let us continue with the actual story.

"Really, Ronald? You'd treasure Snape swooning? I never knew you felt that way." Hermione pretended to break down.

Harry put an arm around the girl's shoulders, mock glaring at the redhead. "I can't believe you, Ron! Breaking 'Mione's heart like that!"

"What – I – That wasn't what I meant!" Ron spluttered, gazing at his friends in horror. "Honest!"

Harry and Hermione cracked up again. The youngest Weasley male was just too easy to tease. He was going to exact revenge by throwing spoonfuls of jam at them, but someone interrupted him before he could carry out his dastardly plan.

"Well done, Harry!" said Seamus, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, we never knew you had it in you," Dean added, waggling his eyebrows in a playful manner.

Harry was nonplussed. He frowned at his two dorm mates and exchanged curious glances with Ron and Hermione. Then, with the whole Gryffindor house (and most of the school, really) looking on, he suddenly groaned and put his head in one hand. He extended his other hand towards Dean and Seamus, and said, "What did the Daily Prophet have to say this time?"

Dean cautiously put the newspaper into the outstretched hand. The whole common room had heard Harry laugh just yesterday, but they all knew about the Golden Boy's legendary temper – either firsthand or via the gossip mill. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of that temper – however, it was perfectly fine to watch someone else be.

Harry quickly glanced through the front page (had you expected the story to be anywhere else?) while Ron and Hermione exchanged glances over his head. Both of them expected the worst – it was a natural assumption whenever 'Harry Potter' and the 'Daily Prophet' were mentioned in the same context. Ron was thinking along the lines of the whole Malfoy thing, while Hermione figured it had something to do with Voldemort. Neither of them would have thought that it was _funny_.

For the second time that morning, the Great Hall of Hogwarts went completely quiet, as Harry started snickering.

Before anyone could ask him what he was laughing about or why, he pushed away his plate and smoothed the newspaper onto the table so the people closest to him could see the large moving picture (under the caption: "Boy-Who-Loved-a-Slytherin!") showing Pansy Parkinson kiss Harry again and again and again. (And again.)

Then he started reading the article aloud, his voice carrying over to the whole Hall in the dead silence.

"_Can this be true? Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater of You-Know-Who, and Golden Boy of the Wizarding World – in love with a Slytherin?_

"_Well, this journalist can confirm it, readers, if the picture (taken by an inside source) isn't enough of an indication. The Prophet now knows that Harry Potter is currently dating Pansy Parkinson, sole heir to the Parkinson family, who was previously thought to be tied to Draco Malfoy. It would certainly be an interesting love triangle if she was, but this journalist can verify that she is not._

"'_Well, Harry's always been secretive. We just thought that he was just going out for walks and things, not actually _meeting_ someone,' said a close friend (who refused to be named) of the Golden Boy._

"_Indeed, anyone who has been keeping up with the Prophet should know that Harry considers his privacy extremely important, and is very good at keeping secrets. How he managed to get his name into the Goblet of Fire, for example._

"_However, it is clear that this secret is now out in the open – and with no small amount of sleuthing from this star correspondent, dear readers! Another inside source (also to remain nameless) confirmed that the two had probably been seeing each other for some time – maybe even years. Apparently, the day the picture above was taken, Harry and his beau had just made up after a fight. Both were very careful to wait until after all Harry's friends had left after their Quidditch pitch._

"_Which brings us to another aspect. How will the Golden Boy's friends react to the news? After all, this reporter's predecessor was the one to uncover his relationship with best friend Hermione Granger. (It is now known that Miss Granger is now dating their mutual friend Ronald Weasley, the youngest son of the Weasley clan.) Or perhaps they are already in on the secret._

"Whatever happens, you can count on Maggie Scoop, reporter extraordinaire, to find out!" Harry finished with flair.

It was no surprise that the Hall was _still_ deathly silent. All eyes were on Harry as he stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and…walked straight to the Slytherin table.

"It appears our secret is out, darling," he said, face completely serious except for the twinkle in his emerald green eyes.

Pansy pouted. "And is that my fault?"

"I never said that. It just means that we don't have to sneak around anymore. It'll be fun." Only Hermione noticed that Harry's eyes glanced to Pansy's right for just a second. Oh, and Draco noticed as well.

The Slytherin girl tapped her lips with a finger thoughtfully. "Does this mean you'll carry my books and walk me to my classes?" At Harry's solemn nod, her smile widened and she stood. "Let's go, then!"

Harry, true to his word, took her books without complaint. Then, with the whole school looking on, the two laced arms and walked out of the Great Hall. And, in every copy of that day's Daily Prophet, their picture-selves kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

OoOoOoOoOo

Whee! Finished. Although this is a lot shorter than I anticipated…hmm. I have an excuse though – school is a lot more time consuming than I originally thought it'd be. Pity me. Pity me!

Ahem. Anyway, hoped you enjoyed, and kindly review if you did. See you next chapter!

I do not own the universe of Harry Potter.

31.08.2008 – Finished chapter 7.


	9. 08 Ron's Second Best Memory

Fait Accompli

Chapter 8 – Ron's Second Best Memory

I will not say that there were no consequences to Pansy's actions, and then Harry's later actions. That would be silly. I can, however, say with impunity that neither of them cared, the former because she was a Slytherin and had planned the whole thing anyway, and the latter because – hey, he was Harry Potter. He was used to it.

There had been Howlers, of course – too many to count. The Slytherin girl had received the bulk of them (and here 'bulk' means 99 percent), as she had supposedly 'seduced' and 'ensnared' the innocent Saviour of the Wizarding World. At least, that was what was assumed. Draco had used a spell that opened all the Howlers at once, so that nothing coherent could be heard. The Great Hall had been filled with so much noise that the teachers had to cast spells that ensured the students' eardrums weren't damaged. (Draco had also lost ten points for endangering his fellow students and causing a disturbance in the Great Hall, which was annulled when Snape awarded him twenty for quick thinking and demonstration of a complex spell.)

Some people had foreseen this, and had instead written very nasty letters. These Pansy either _Incendio_-d, or read with Harry during their coinciding free periods. Neither of them took the letters very seriously, because they were very obviously full of owl droppings, much like the beseeching missives Harry received, begging him to reconsider the daughter of so-and-so, or the female heir of so-and-so's family. He had taken to reading these out loud to the Gryffindor common room, and this had become something of a regular entertainment source on weekend nights.

The reaction of the students themselves was not a surprise. Most of the female population of the school were up in arms. If Pansy had not been a Slytherin (or had she been a non-Slytherin not in the DA), she wouldn't have survived the first few weeks after the eventful front page article. Various jinxes and curses (some incredibly nasty) ricocheted off Pansy's almost-permanent shield charm, and hit other students instead. The Hospital Wing had rarely been so full. And there were, of course, the malicious students who avoided the couple, or who made it a point to hiss cruel statements and so on under their breaths. A lot of Light supporters seemed to think that by dating a Slytherin, Harry was defecting, and so they made their opinion on the matter perfectly clear. Precious few seemed to be able to not care about the state of affairs.

And then there was Ginny. Only Harry hadn't seemed to realise that the only Weasley girl had taken to avoiding him as well – but for obviously different reasons. She wouldn't listen to Hermione's advice, and flat out refused to talk to her brother. Ron tried not to mind, although he personally wanted to yell at her about how she was acting like a complete child.

Now, all these are undoubtedly very interesting proceedings, if not particularly pleasant ones. But the most interesting of all would be the Slytherin-Gryffindor Potions class that fateful morning. _Hands down._

OoOoOoOoOo

"Mr. Potter, as fascinating as your love life is, I would like to begin the lesson some time _today_. So if you would kindly get to your proper seat before Gryffindor loses points…"

Harry looked up at Snape with wide eyes. "But, sir, this _is_ my normal seat." And indeed it was. Pansy was the one sitting next to him, but there was no way in Hell that Snape would ever berate any of his own students. Be serious.

"No, Mr. Potter. _This_ is your normal seat." The Potions Professor sneered and pointed at the only empty chair right at the front of the class. It was no coincidence that this seat was located right beside Draco's.

Harry wanted to smile, but schooled his expression as he gathered his things (Pansy helped, which made Snape's expression turn even sourer) and moved to his newly assigned seat. Draco didn't sneer or make a snarky comment – all he did was turn to Harry with smirking eyes, and nod.

Harry felt rather than heard the whole class grow silent as he nodded back.

Snape seemed to pause, before snapping, "Five points from Gryffindor for being _slow_, Potter. Now, as I have said, this year's curriculum will be vastly more difficult than the last, mainly because it is N.E.W.T. standard. Indeed, I am surprised some of you even got into the class." His black eyes deliberately took in Harry sitting in front and Ron at the back. "However, I rejoice in the fact that Longbottom is no longer here, as I have grown rather tired of cauldrons melting right and left."

The Gryffindors in the classroom scowled, but none voiced protests aloud, correct in the assumption that points would be docked.

Snape sneered. "Today we are going to discuss the theory of brewing the Draught of Living Death. I have not asked a question yet, Miss Granger, so kindly put your hand down."

Hermione, who had raised her hand to push her hair out of her face, looked scandalised.

"All of you should know the basics of this potion by now, so I will not waste any time reviewing it. The Draught of Living Death can be modified, much like any other potion. However, if the victim is given the wrong antidote, he will die. This is why all antidotes can only be brewed if there is a sample of the original potion used – or if the original brewer is alive."

One of the Ravenclaws raised a hand. "Sir, what if the brewer refuses to give a sample or a list of the modifications?"

The Potions Professor smiled unpleasantly. "That is what Veritaserum is for, Mr. Boot."

The truth potion was no longer in the Sixth or Seventh year curriculum, because of an incident that had happened exactly 43 years ago. A sixteen-year-old witch had smuggled out a sample to give her boyfriend, whom she suspected was cheating on her. Unfortunately, the Veritaserum was of her own making, and the Doxy eggs she had used were just past their expiry date. The boyfriend had almost died, and she had had to be expelled. Since then, there were special enchantments in the dungeons that prevented students from bringing out potions from the classrooms.

Frankly, it was surprising that no student had smuggled actual _poison_ out before.

Anyway, we had better be getting back to the lesson.

"Now let's see if any of you dunderheads retained any knowledge after your O.W.L.s. Can any of you tell me what the two main ingredients in Veritaserum are?" He ignored Hermione's raised hand. "Mr. MacMillan?"

"Aconite and wolfsbane," the Hufflepuff said pompously, after only a second's pause.

"Incorrect. Five points from Hufflepuff. Aconite is another name for wolfsbane, as is monkshood. It is no longer used in Veritaserum, as you should know, due to its unpredictable potency. Mr. Zabini?"

"Feverfew and copper, sir."

"Ten points to Slytherin. Can you tell Mr. MacMillan what their functions are, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape raised an eyebrow at his favourite pupil.

Draco smirked, and adjusted his legs as he sat back in his chair. "Well, feverfew acts as a substitute for the wolfsbane; it neutralises the acidity of the Doxy eggs. When dry feverfew is used, it also extends the potion's shelf life." He flicked his hair away from his eyes with a jerk of his head, and continued, "Copper is a cheap transition metal, without which the potion would take ten weeks to complete, instead of ten hours. The large amount of copper used also gives Veritaserum a slight, almost undetectable, blue tinge."

"Bravo, Mr. Malfoy. Take twenty points." Snape decided to ignore the grumbles that were issued from a few of the students. "Mr. Potter! Are you paying attention?"

Harry started, and quickly said, "Yes, sir. Of course." Truth be told, he had only been listening with half an ear – Draco's leg against his had been _very_ distracting, especially when the Slytherin's hand had 'innocently' wandered where it shouldn't have. Of course, now Draco's hands were folded neatly on his own lap, and the boy was smirking at him.

"We'll see about that," Snape said, lip curling. He tapped the board with his wand, and snapped, "This is your assignment, due Thursday. Hurry up and copy it down; we are going to see how many points Gryffindor can lose in one day." He directed this last to Harry, who again wasn't paying attention.

The reason for the boy's inattentiveness was one Draco Malfoy (which wasn't very surprising, really). The Slytherin prefect was ambidextrous, which meant he could cast spells with either his right or his left hand. It also meant that he could copy down the details of the assignment with his left hand, leaving his right hand free for – ahem – _other_ activities. He quite enjoyed seeing Harry squirm.

And, yes, that _was_ an intentional double entendre. What of it?

"Alright, you all should be done by now." Another tap – or whack, really – with the wand had the blackboard clean. Someone cursed, obviously not finished, but his seat partner quickly shushed him. The questioning was about to begin.

"Mr. Potter, tell me, what is the first ingredient to be added to boiling water when brewing the Draught of Living Death?"

Harry glanced at Draco for a second, then met the Potions' Master's gaze squarely. "Chopped Valerian root, sir."

Deathly silence, and then Snape sneered. "Correct. And what happens when you add Valerian root?"

Another glance at his partner. "The liquid should become smooth and blackcurrant coloured. With, um, bluish steam. Sir."

Someone gasped.

Even Snape was surprised, but none of it showed on his face (he had a reputation to uphold, after all). He had had a conversation during the summer with someone who believed that the 'Golden Boy' had changed. Snape had not been convinced. It was doubtful that he was going to be convinced now, after a few correct answers.

"Clear your desk, Mr. Potter, and remove your wand from your pocket." Once this had been done, albeit with a glower, Snape snapped, "Now stand up."

Harry stood.

Draco, who knew that this was his godfather's way of making sure the Gryffindor wasn't cheating, smirked and sat back in his chair. Of course, the fact that Harry was standing up meant that Draco couldn't touch him discreetly annoyed the Slytherin, but sacrifices had to be made. Plus he didn't want their relationship revealed _just_ yet.

"The next step, Potter."

"The juice from a single Sopophorous Bean is harvested using a silver knife, and poured into the cauldron. A light shade of lilac should result."

Hermione, who knew the instructions back to front (she'd had free time during the summer, so what?), watched her best friend and the Potions' Master glare at each other, her brown eyes wide. Harry's answer was, astoundingly, absolutely correct.

Sitting next to her, Ron was trying and failing to suppress his grin. The greasy bat was finally getting his comeuppance! Served him right for docking so many points from Gryffindor. Karma really was a bitch. (Hermione had explained what karma was while promoting S.P.E.W. in Fourth Year.) Although the ginger-head didn't know how Harry knew all the answers. Perhaps he was channelling some kind of inner-Hermione.

Snape moved to the front of his desk, not taking his black eyes off the Spawn of James Potter. He crossed his arms over his chest, longing to take points off. "And then?"

"If I'm not mistaken, the potion has to be given seven counter-clockwise stirs, to be repeated with pauses between the repeats, until the potions turns clear." Harry noticed Snape's raised eyebrow and smiled inwardly. Without prompting, he continued. "Once that happens, it has to be brought to the boil, and then simmered on a low heat. It's at this point the potion can be put in stasis to be brewed at a later date. After that –"

"Potter, shut up."

Harry's teeth audibly clicked together as he shut his mouth. Even Draco gave his godfather a reproving look, although this was rather lost on the Slytherin Head of House, who was glaring at the 'Spawn'.

"How exactly do you know all this? I do not think that _you_ have any discipline for self study," Snape said harshly. He did not appreciate cheaters in his class, and he was just itching for an excuse to kick Harry Potter out. The boy had never before shown an aptitude for Potions, so Snape would be doing him a favour, really.

"I don't," Harry said agreeably, which was enough to make most of the class gape at him. "I was – I am being tutored."

Inwardly, Draco winced. He hadn't planned for this to happen. He inconspicuously nudged Harry's leg with his knee, but the boy wouldn't look at him. _Damn it, Harry,_ he thought. _We never agreed on _this_._

Snape had narrowed his eyes. "You mean to tell me that Granger has managed to get through that thick skull of yours?"

"No," Harry said mildly, before the Potions' Master could take away any (more) points. "Draco did."

I think I used the term 'deathly silence' a few paragraphs ago. I'd just like to say that death isn't exactly very silent, especially depending on what kind of death it is. For example, death in your sleep would definitely be a lot quieter than say, dying in a fire. (Unless, of course, you happen to be a sleep talker.) At any rate, even when placed in the ground, death – or, rather, decomposition – isn't a silent process, what with the release of gases, breaking down of the body, and the noises made by the decomposers themselves.

My point is that the silence that fell was not deathly, or even comparable to a grave. Instead, the best simile to use is as silent as the _vacuum of space_.

Draco broke this when he sighed and gave Harry a look. Harry raised his eyebrows, smile only present in his emerald eyes.

The sigh had broken Snape out of his stupor. He levelled his favourite – and rightly deserved so, the boy was (or had been) best in his year in Potions – with his malicious gaze. "Is this true, Mr. Malfoy?"

Expecting a vehement denial, Severus Snape was utterly shocked when the boy replied with a cool, "Yes, sir. It is."

Whispers had started, but a sharp glance from Snape quietened them.

"You mean to tell me, Mr. Malfoy, that _you _are tutoring Potter in Potions?"

Draco figured he might as well jump in, seeing as his feet were already wet. "Yes, sir. It was originally just as a favour to Pansy, but we've come to a…truce. As you can see, sir, it has done wonders on Potter's Potions work, wouldn't you agree?"

Snape looked stunned. It was not a good expression on his face, mainly because it was very rarely seen. His eyes had widened silently and his forehead was free of the near-constant frown. Snape's jaw had slackened, but not enough for his mouth to actually drop open – he was not an uncultured cretin, thank you. His head leaned oh-so-slightly forward, causing greasy strands to flop into his face. After a few seconds, he sat down heavily on his desk.

"Class dismissed."

The students looked at each other in confusion. _Is Snape serious? Merlin, we've still got an hour left – Do you think Malfoy's _actually_ teaching Potter? Nah, no way, it's probably just Granger's doing. But _Malfoy_ just said –_

"Class _dismissed_, I said."

Ron didn't need telling twice. He'd already finished packing his bag, and helped Hermione put her things away. Hermione, needless to say, had a lot of things on the desk. By the time they'd finished, so had Harry and Malfoy. The four of them stood, Harry collecting Pansy on the way, and the rest of the class followed slowly, shell-shocked.

Terry Boot managed to glance backwards at the Professor, and saw that Snape was still sitting on the table, unmoving, looking like his world had just utterly shattered. The Ravenclaw hurried out. Just in time to hear the following from Ronald Weasley:

"You know Harry, if this happens more often, I might just start liking the idea that you're dating a Slytherin."

Harry Potter only laughed.

OoOoOoOoOo

Potions information taken from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince _and _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. Some of it I made up.

Happy New Year, my dear readers. I'd planned to finish this before 2009, but plans fell through. Ah well. I hope you had a nice holiday.

I'm not too sure if I'm going too fast or too slow. What do you guys think? Also, how do you like my Snape? In character, or OOC? Tell me in a review.

Wow, that wasn't a very subtle hint, was it? Wasn't meant to be. Anyway, thanks for reading!

I do not own the universe of Harry Potter.

02.01.2009 – Finished chapter 8.


	10. 09 Seduction

Fait Accompli

Chapter 9 – Seduction

_Harry,_

_I'm glad to hear you're well. However, I've gone and caught a really bad 'cold', so I won't be able to visit you for Halloween. A pity, because Halloween at Hogwarts – well, you know, kiddo. 'Sides, a certain greasy bat would probably poison my candy cones, and we can't have that now, can we?_

_It's nice to go out and not have people run away from you. I mean, some tossers still _do_ run away, but it's nice not to have Aurors Apparate in soon after, or have Dementors appear. I mean, being an Animagus is great and all, but there's something to be said about having the sun on your own skin._

_As for the other stuff… the post isn't secure enough for me to give you any real _news_ – you'll have to ask Remus. But remember to knock before entering – _Yeesh_._

_Oh, did I write that? Oops._

_Anyway, do you think you'll be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas? We can probably go for a holiday – someplace warm; I hear India's nice that time of year. Or we can just stay in the country, backpack our way through. If it's safe, of course. And if I don't get another _cold_._

_But don't worry if we can't go during Christmas – there are still the summer holidays. I think you've already made plans for December with your Slytherin. That reminds me, I'd better have the 'Talk' with you, kiddo. That'd be worth a few laughs – for me, anyway._

_Keep your nose out of trouble, Harry, and give your all for your training. I'd suggest adding physical exercises; maybe Remus can help with that. Send my regards to Hermione and Ron, and your Slytherin. Buckbeak says hi._

_Sirius._

OoOoOoOoOo

"Hey, Draco?"

Grey eyes flicked to Harry's face, then returned to the thick Transfiguration book he had been reading. "Yes?"

"Do you have any plans for Christmas?" Harry asked, fingering the letter from Sirius that he'd stuck in his planner sometime yesterday. He wanted to know if he _did_ have any plans with his Slytherin, in the off chance that Sirius didn't have a mission.

"Yes, I do."

Harry waited for some elaboration, but when Draco merely continued reading, felt a little stung and hurt. He glared at the same passage in his Charms textbook for six point five minutes, during which those seated at the table scratched at parchment with their quills, flipped pages, and generally actually did their homework. At six point six minutes, Draco got up to return '_Teacups to Tortoises_' to its shelf. Ron rose as well; helping Hermione put back her impressive stack of books. It wasn't so much chivalry as getting out of studying, an act Hermione saw through in an instant, but didn't protest.

That left Harry and his 'girlfriend'.

Pansy touched his hand, and it was only then that he noticed that he was gripping the book so tightly his knuckles were white. The emerald-eyed Gryffindor let it fall onto the table with a thud, a sigh escaping past his lips.

"Harry, you know better."

He didn't look at her. "Do I?"

She made an exasperated sound. "Don't be thick. Out here _anyone_ can hear. Draco's a very private person. He doesn't talk about his plans, just like you wouldn't talk about what we did last night."

Of course, what they did last night was nothing special, but the image they were cultivating was of two lovebirds secreting away every chance they could get. Since the fateful Daily Prophet article, there were no less than nine open romances involving Slytherins. Odd, that.

Harry remained silent, as he did when the other person was making sense and he didn't want to admit it. Pansy, by her own merits an extremely observant girl, simply smirked and placed her chin on his shoulder. The way she positioned her hand on his arm told him that she had something more to say, and so he tilted his head to his right, enough that her forehead touched his temple.

A position such as this, in public, he would have loved to have with Draco – but.

"I know for a fact that he has plans, and that they involve you," Pansy whispered.

His breath of relief – not that he'd admit it was relief – disturbed the careful arrangement of her hair a little, but he didn't pull away. She still had her hand on his arm, still had more to say. Harry still found it strange that he could so easily read these little signs, but he supposed that was his latent Slytherin qualities showing themselves. They would prove useful, sooner or later.

"I'd suggest you tell your godfather you'll be busy," she said, and he could _hear_ the smirk in her voice, as he could feel the innocent fluttering of her eyelashes. "And you had better arrange to have that _talk_."

Harry tried to pull away, but Pansy had latched onto his arm quite securely. He turned his head and glared at her.

"That letter was supposed to be _private_."

"Harry, when you leave it on the desk, open, then _anyone_ can read it," she replied flatly. "Besides, I'm your girlfriend. Nothing you do or have is secret from _me_." There was laughter in her voice, and she kissed his cheek as if asking forgiveness.

Even though he knew this was not the case (not by a long shot), Harry couldn't stop a rueful smile. If he wasn't in love with Draco, then he'd probably have enjoyed having a real relationship with Pansy. She was smart, and funny, and was intriguing in that –

Wait. In love with Draco? Where had that come from?

"Pansy, can't you keep your paws off Potter for one minute?" came the drawling voice of the very object of his thoughts. Draco sneered at them both, having returned his book and selected another. "Bad enough Granger and Weasley haven't come back yet – I shudder to think what _they're_ up to."

"Jealousy doesn't become you, darling," Pansy sniffed, but relinquished her hold on Harry.

"Oh, yes, Pansy, what I really need now is a Gryffindor to fawn over. Or to fawn over me, as the case may be."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You'd be lucky to get one of us, Draco."

Draco snorted elegantly and took his seat. "Undoubtedly."

His tone was incredibly sarcastic, but his eyes were not. Harry felt himself blush, and despaired that he had inherited that particular trait from his mother as well as her eyes. Still, others who noted his red cheeks would put it down to anger. No one in their right minds would be willing to entertain the notion that Harry was gay, much less with Draco Malfoy. Be serious.

Despite intolerance of homosexuality in the Wizarding World being practically nonexistent, same sex relationships were immensely rare, mostly because very few male wizards were powerful enough to conceive babies with their partners. A lot of magic was required to sustain the foetus throughout gestation. Average-level wizards, although homosexual, would marry and produce heirs, because they placed their duty to their families above all else. The Wizarding community was small as it is – why contribute to negative growth? At any rate, that didn't mean they could not have discreet side relationships with whomever they chose – but these were _discreet_.

Therefore, the number of official same-sex relationships (and marriages) was rather low, and the majority of these were of the female variety. Let's face it, the women only needed donor sperm, and both of them could become pregnant, so they wished (presuming, of course, that neither was barren).

This in turn made wizards and witches think of heterosexual relationships first, and consider homosexual liaisons (especially when dealing with males), well, rarely, if at all.

At any rate, this is rather drifting from the topic at hand. Oh, see, I've digressed so much that the students we are so obsessed with have left the library. My apologies. Let's zoom in to the two most interesting; Harry and Draco, who have somehow managed to sneak themselves into an abandoned classroom (the door of which was closed, barred, and covered in enough privacy spells, and then some).

They sat, entwined with each other, on what could only be described as the bastard lovechild of a bed and a recliner, which had three legs and plump pillows with the pattern of the dark wood that most of Hogwarts' furniture was made of. Both of them had tried to Transfigure the same table into something suitable to lounge on, but neither had consulted the other as to what that suitable thing was, or even as to who should do the actual Transfiguration. They hoped they would be able to return it to its original form (or Harry did, anyway). Abandoned classroom or not, a bed-recliner hybrid would cause a few questions if discovered.

"Of course my Christmas plans involve you, you git."

"Well, excuse me," Harry said hotly. "Was I supposed to read your mind, or something?"

"No. But you could have waited until we were alone to ask." Draco had Harry pulled against his chest, so the Gryffindor could feel him sigh. "Merlin, Harry, please remember that you're officially dating Pans. Don't expect me to announce to the world that I'm staying in Hogwarts for Christmas so I can seduce you."

Harry huffed. "When I said I didn't want us to be a secret, I didn't mean _this_."

Draco ran his hand down Harry's side in what he thought was a soothing gesture, but only served to make Harry shiver as his skin tingled pleasantly. "I know. But – that would be too shocking, Harry. At least you weren't mortal enemies with Pans. You've seen the interaction between Houses. That would never have happened if we publicized our relationship – our _actual_ relationship."

"I guess House unity is a little better than it used to be…but still."

"But still, nothing. I know you're not used to hiding your feelings like this, Harry – you're too Gryffindor for that." Draco's voice had more affection than condescension, so Harry let that one slide. "But I promise you, it will be worth it, more than worth it, when you demolish old prejudices. I have more plans for that, by the way."

"And…assuming we both survive the war…what happens then?"

"Then I will cast a _Sonorus_ and shout from atop the Astronomy Tower. How's that sound?"

Harry grinned at the image. "That sounds – wait." Draco's words from earlier caught up with him. He twisted in Draco's grip so he was able to stare into the grey eyes. "What do you mean, 'seduce' me?"

It was then that Harry had the absolute pleasure of seeing his boyfriend blush. His whole face didn't turn red, like Harry's tended to do, but there was a delicate pink flush that dusted his cheeks. His expression remained haughty, as it usually was.

"Surely even _you_ know the meaning of _seduce_, Potter."

"You do know that I know you're acting when you revert to my surname, right?"

"You do know that I don't particularly care, right?"

Harry would have liked to reply, but Draco cheated in kissing him first. That is not to say that the Gryffindor was complaining, but it was hard to talk when your boyfriend was positioning himself half on top of you, and snogging your lights out.

They had progressed from innocent snogging to incoherent-and-shirtless-and-soon-to-be-pants-less-Harry, when Draco pulled back.

"Don't you have an Occlumency lesson at seven?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Still inarticulate, the reply was, "Whuh?"

The corners of Draco's lips quirked up in a not-smile as he repeated himself.

It took one long moment of incomprehension. Then utter panic took Harry over as he jumped off the chair/bed and struggled to pull up his trousers, button his shirt and cast a Tempus charm at the same time.

Draco just laughed.

OoOoOoOoOo

Oh dear. I did so want to update this sooner. Hopefully, dear readers, you'll be kind. Of course, you're always welcome to be kinder and drop a review.

So, do you like the way the story is going? Am I too slow? Something you think should happen? I'm always open to suggestion.

I do not own the universe of Harry Potter.

13.09.2009 – Finished Chapter 9


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